


Per Operculum

by JamJar98



Category: NCIS
Genre: Action & Romance, F/M, Humor, Romance, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamJar98/pseuds/JamJar98
Summary: “Relax.”“Easy for you to say.” The gentle growl sent a shiver down his spine.“We’ve done this before.”“Not with so many people watching.”Gibbs and Jack get thrown into an undercover operation that might reveal more than what they bargained for.





	1. Sick & Twisted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NerdyJibbsOreo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyJibbsOreo/gifts).

> Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything.
> 
> It's been a while since I've written a multi-chapter fic that isn't a collection of oneshots, so all I ask is your patience. This will be rife with tropes, so be warned.
> 
> Dedicated to NerdyJibbsOreo who is the reason this exists.
> 
> Enjoy*

* * *

"This is the third one in how many weeks?"

"Three," there was a slight pause, "well two depending on how you look at it."

The lavish Georgetown mansion seemed to be crawling with police officers and NCIS agents. Torres adjusted his cap, sketching as McGee took photos. The young agent looked at the crime scene with slight disgust. He had known what to expect this time round, but it still made his skin crawl.

"Don't you think it's creepy seeing them like this?" Nick shivered visibly, gritting his teeth. "They look peaceful, but you know… they're also covered in blood."

Tim stopped for a moment lowering his camera. "I don't know, obviously the way they died isn't ideal, but I know many married couples who'd die in each other's arms."

Ellie wandered out of the en suite bathroom, snapping off her gloves. "I'm with McGee. It's kind of tragically romantic."

Nick grimaced at the thought. "I'm not saying there's something wrong with it, but it's not exactly the fairy tale ending like in _The Notebook_." Closing his sketch pad, he looked between his team mates. "Just holding someone's dead body, I mean... that's some weird juju."

"Wait" Tim lowered his camera once more, raising a curious eyebrow at Torres "you've actually seen that movie?"

He froze, eyes darting between his team mates. "It was like a Sunday, and I had nothing to do."

Tim smirked, shaking his head as he heard Ellie cackle with blackmail written all over her face.

"You're all going to have nothing to do if one of you don't tell me what we've got."

Gibbs stormed into the large bedroom, Palmer in tow with a gurney. He gave each a glare for mucking about.

"Same as the other two, Boss." Tim pulled his notes out of his pocket as Torres and Bishop packed up their equipment and left the room. "The Admiral and his wife were loved by everyone, or so the maid says. The only link we see between them and the other victims is they had a serious amount of money."

Jethro nodded, flipping through his own notes. He silently sent Tim on his way to finish up and take the other two back to the office. Years of dealing with all sorts of crime scenes had dulled his olfactory nerves by now, but the coppery stench of blood that hung in the air was suffocating. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stepped closer to the bed.

He'd seen his fare share of sick and twisted crime scenes. Yet this struck something deep, something he'd been resisting since that hurricane swept through his life. They were tied up together, glassy eyes staring at nothing, wrists slashed open. This was the third couple, and silently he shouldered their death, if he had done his job they'd both still be alive.

Jimmy shuffled his things around, setting out two body bags. He seemed distracted by what they'd come upon, Jethro sighed, perhaps he'd grown too attached to Ducky's penchant for storytelling to lighten the remorse they all felt no matter what number they were up to with crime scenes.

"Misses McClain was killed first." Jimmy fussed with his things trying to stall the inevitable. "I'd say at least two to three hours before Admiral McClain."

Jethro narrowed his eyes slightly. He'd half expected Bishop and Torres to squirm when they started this case. Torres had vehemently stated his thoughts on everything, but he wasn't nearly as rattled as Palmer and McGee.

They were both married, with their own families to look after and having this part of reality remind them that life was short, it was never easy to stomach. There was movement behind him, and he snapped around ready to throttle whoever had slipped passed the agents stationed outside.

Anger flared as he saw her stand in the doorway. He didn't want her to see this. Smokey brown eyes immediately flicked to the bed, the revulsion easily masked by the way she smoothed her hair out of her face. He knew she'd seen the crime scene photos, had been working nights on end to profile the psychopath who was responsible. He wanted to spare her this part. The smell, the eerie sound of death looming in every crevice.

"Sorry I'm late. McGee phoned just as I was entering the Navy Yard." She stepped into the room, the sound of her heels muted by the thick carpet. "You know what it's like early in the morning."

He didn't answer since Jimmy beat him to it.

Palmer darted passed him saying something about finding an extra set of hands to help him. Jethro adjust his cap, watching Jack as she did her own quiet investigation.

"Thoughts, Sloane?"

Jack held up a finger, forcing him to stay quiet. She'd seen his frustration before he even realized. A different setting with different circumstances she might have swooned, if just a little, at how protective he could be. She'd told McGee that no matter what the time he had to phone her if there were more victims. No matter how pissed Gibbs was, she had to be on scene.

"Is anything missing?" She carefully moved around the room, trying not to disturb a thing.

"No, the maid said anything of value is accounted for." Gibbs flipped through his notes, double checking his own work.

"So this is personal." Jack murmured as she stepped closer to the bed, staring at the couple with quiet remorse.

Jethro raised an eyebrow. "Never assume-"

"Double check." Jack straightened, "Believe me, Gibbs, I have. This isn't someone who's seeking attention. I'd have to consult with Ducky, but I should have a complete profile by this afternoon."

Making her way to where he stood, she pressed a hand against his shoulder softly. "You'll get him." She smiled, meeting his conflicted gaze. Blue eyes blazed brightly despite his fatigue, reminding her why blue was rapidly becoming her favorite colour.

* * *

The evidence garage was uncharacteristically quiet as she stepped off the elevator. Agent Mason was big on laughter and noise, adding to why all the new probies preferred to work down here. The clicking of her heels pierced the silence as she headed towards the evidence lock up.

A few agents were floating around, cataloging evidence and dividing them to be placed in storage. Some greeted her, already familiar with how often she came to visit their in house Historian. Meandering through all the shelves, she could hear the doctor's own music filtering into the empty corridor.

Three knocks granted her access into the lavishly furnished room. She smirked as the treadmill stopped, the smile on the older man's face enough to elicit a genuine one of her own.

"Oh, what a delightful surprise." They met halfway for a hug.

"I wasn't here that long ago." Jack teased, the old man waved her off, motioning to his steaming tea pot as an offer. "Yes, please."

"I must say, Jacqueline, I am quite surprised to see you." Ducky filled the delicate cups, offering Jack the sugar container. He watched as she sweetened her tea, wondering what had led to her immense love for sugary treats. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's about the 'Bedroom Slasher', well that's what Nick's calling him." She perused through the bookshelf he had added to his office, taking in all the titles. "Each kill was personal." Inhaling deeply, she moseyed towards the couch, taking a seat next to the doctor and placing her file on the coffee table. "It's almost intimate."

Ducky nodded, it wasn't the first time Jack was running her thoughts by him. It was, however, the first time he saw her this… distraught. They had all reached such a point once in their life, but he knew this wasn't her first serial killer, nor was it the most gruesome. There was something personal to this for her.

"He makes the husband watch as…" she grit her teeth, trying to stop the shiver from crawling up her spine. "As she slowly bleeds to death."

Ducky nodded, watching as she mulled everything over in her mind. "It reminds me of one of my early cases here at NCIS." Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he shook his head in disbelief. "A Navy Captain came home early from deployment and discovered his wife in bed with another man. He was so enraged that he had killed both of them."

Jack raised an eyebrow, quietly wondering what his connection to all this was.

"It was later found that he had killed a high school girlfriend for talking to a young man who had expressed interest in her." Ducky sipped his tea, mind spinning with information.

Placing her cup on the table, she stared out the window. "It doesn't make sense Ducky, all three victims were high school sweethearts. No evidence suggests infidelity."

"During the mid 90's Virginia had been terrorized by another serial killer, Kyle Boone." Ducky offered her a strained smile. "Gibbs was responsible for his capture. When time came for his execution Abby had discovered he had killed his own mother and that she had been his very first victim."

Jack frowned, she remembered the news headlines, she had done everything to avoided the Army sending her to Virginia. When he had been captured, the agency or agents had never been mentioned, at least not in the San Diego papers. Running her fingers through her hair, she let out a short agitated sigh. It was the first time in years she was having trouble getting a clear picture for who they were looking for.

"It _is_ personal. A grudge or past trauma might be fueling the blood thirst. Whatever it is, he's going to kill again." Jack snapped her folder shut.

Standing quickly she shook her hair out over her shoulders, desperately trying to relieve some of the stress. The old doctor took her cup, placing it with his. "Why don't you come with me. I'm sure you'd be able to shed some more light on the current case."

Ducky merely nodded, grabbing his jacket as he ushered her to the door. He watched her fidget lightly, biting her nail out of habit. "How is he? Word has it he's been a bear with a swore paw for the last few weeks." He looked at her knowingly. He'd been curios and skeptical about the two of them working together.

Jack shrugged her shoulders, overly aware that a lot of people viewed him that way every day. "He wants to find this guy before there's more victims."

Ducky hid his smile, wondering if she was aware she was defending Gibbs. He had suspected and heard various rumors that there was a little more to their friendship than what met the eye. Clearing his throat, he could see she was still somewhat distracted by everything.

"I do not mean to intrude my dear, but you seem somewhat distracted by this case."

Jack blinked, she chuckled nervously. Was she distracted? Of course she was. It was the idea of losing someone that rattled her. She was worried about him for goodness sake, and the thought of losing him was paralyzing. There was nothing between them, just friendship that had been growing a little too close for comfort. She could see what the case was doing to him, and she wondered to what measures he would go to catch this guy.

"Just over worked, Ducky. I'm sure when this is over everything will be back to normal." She dazzled him with a smile, but it was obvious he saw right through her.

The doctor's old grey eyes sparkled knowingly, the wrinkles around them crinkling teasingly. He reached out to her, placing a hand on her cheek comfortingly. There was only understanding written across his face, his mouth pinched at the corner. "He's a good man. Just give him a little time."

* * *

The bullpen was unusually quiet for midday. The coffee in his cup was hot against his palm. Taking a slow drink, he stepped off the elevator. It burned the tip of his tongue, all the way down his throat, he brushed off the searing pain in his chest and headed for his desk. It didn't take much to realize that they were all barely clinging to whatever strength they had left. Elaine had asked him three times if he wanted his usual cup of coffee before he could give her a straight answer.

A hushed silence had settled over the bullpen. Torres was unusually quiet, opting to sit in his chair as opposed to floating around his corner. Bishop was covertly napping, trying to hide it behind a stack of files and her open laptop. He let it slide, knowing that dealing with a cranky Bishop was far from ideal for their current circumstances. McGee was typing furiously, his sole motivation his two children. He gave the senior field agent a second glance, noting the dark circles under his eyes.

"Update!" The demand seemed to snap all of them awake.

Bishop jumped up, wondering why no one had tried to wake her. Grabbing her Manila folder, she joined her boss in front of the plasma, while trying to smooth down the cow lick on the side of her head.

"According to most people who knew Admiral McClain, he was a 'happy-go-lucky' guy." Flipping through her file she brought up their second victim. "Misses McClain was described as a social butterfly, always running fundraisers and trying to raise awareness for certain causes."

Gibbs took a drink from his cup, eyeing the cow lick Ellie was still trying to smooth down. "Where'd the money come from?"

"Family money on both sides." Nick jumped to his feet trying to shake off the fatigue. "The Admiral's family comes from a long line of investors. Misses McClain, on the other hand, is Washington royalty."

"How does this connect with our previous victims?" They couldn't miss the impatience in Gibbs' voice.

Nick looked over at Ellie, giving her a wide-eyed look. He hadn't really done much more than dig into the victims backgrounds. He'd secretly hoped they'd be granted a free pass to go home. He'd never admit to being tired, but trying to find their killer was wearing him down.

"Well they all three come from wealthy backgrounds. So..." Ellie muttered slowly, hoping that McGee would throw them a life line.

"So... what Bishop?" Jethro snapped.

McGee jumped to his feet, green eyes bloodshot, but somewhat relieved. "Fundraisers!"

Nick raised an eyebrow, a hand propped under his chin as he regarded him. "I think McGee might need some rest." He snorted a laugh for no reason, alerting everyone else just how tired he really was.

"McGee?" Gibbs prompted, barely hiding the irritation.

Tim grabbed the clicker from Ellie a little roughly, gently moving her out of his way. Pulling up the photos of all six their victims, he pointed at them. "Apart from being wealthy, the only connection between them are fundraisers."

"A lot of rich people hang out at fundraisers, Tim." Ellie placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth the fact that the lead was a dead end.

Tim gave her a tired glare, green eyes still sparkling with a hint of mystery and satisfaction. "Yeah, but what if all six of them attended the same fundraisers?" Pulling up a roster that had clearly been compiled quickly he pointed at the highlighted bars.

"They all had reservations for the same fundraisers." He smiled at Ellie triumphantly.

Nick furrowed his brow, piecing everything together. "So what you're saying is that, the weirdo picks his victims from those who attend."

"Suspects?" Gibbs eyed Tim warily, wondering exactly how much caffeine the younger man had consumed. He could've sworn he'd seen his hands shaking.

"On it." Bishop jumped into action.

Jethro ran a hand over his face, looking at the screen with frustration. "Torres check the catering staff, see if any of them worked all three fundraisers." Taking a large swallow from his cup, he turned towards McGee. "Take a break, Tim."

The back elevator dinged in the quiet squad room.

She watched him pace, waiting for the first agent to give him something. She noted the limp and pushed it to the back of her mind to prod him about it later.

Ducky was still talking, recalling yet another obscene case. The old doctor had grabbed a hold of her arm, escorting her to the bullpen. The sight of one irritated Leroy Jethro Gibbs seemed to be the only thing to stop his narration.

"You done?" Jethro stopped, observing the two of them with narrowed eyes.

It didn't take much for her to ignore his gruffness. Brushing him off, she offered him a smile. She didn't miss Ducky's raised brow, or that all too familiar twinkle.

"Hello to you too." The aggressive stance towards her seemed to relax as he watched her, blue eyes sharp and questioning. "You guys have any leads?"

Nick trudged back from where he'd been leaning over Ellie's shoulder. "McGee connected our victims. All of them attended the same fundraisers or had reservations for the same fundraisers."

"Any connections between the different events?" Jack placed her file on Gibbs' desk.

"Waiting staff didn't check out." Ellie looked up from her computer screen, appearing far more dejected than before. "That leaves us with more than 200 possible suspects."

"You're saying our killer is a guest?!" Tim appeared out of no where, a small energy drink in hand.

Jack leaned her hip again Gibbs' desk, tapping her fingers against her lips in thought. She ran everything through her mind, trying to tie the new information to the profile. Looking up, she met his cobalt gaze tracing her features. He seemed to focus on her mouth, licking his own lips as he looked her in the eye.

They watched each other for a heartbeat, blocking out the bustle of the suddenly noisy squad room.

"He's sophisticated." Breaking eye contact, she regarded the rest of the team. "He's not picking his victims at random. All three men are military with various high ranks, but they come from wealthy backgrounds."

"That's a pretty large pool to pick from." Ellie looked at McGee who seemed to agree.

"Besides the obvious, what else did our victims have in common?" Ducky prompted, noting that they all seemed to be going in circles. "A habit perhaps, or a hobby-"

"Wait." Nick pulled a notepad closer, flipping through it furiously. "Everyone I interviewed said that our victims were..." He grimaced, not hiding his disgust in the least. "They were all openly romantic." He quoted from his notes.

"Like swingers?" McGee blurted.

"No!" Nick retaliated. "More like… they liked being all touchy in public."

Jack pursed her lips. "So perhaps a little voyeurism." Making a mental note to add it to the file later. "Any thoughts on how you are going to nail this guy?"

The level of exhaustion was at an all time high, she could see three pairs of droopy tired eyes stare at her for suggestions. She doubted any of them had gone home in the last three weeks, much less get more than two hours sleep.

"Bishop, Torres, you two head down to Kasie. Have her create backstopped IDs. McGee, get them on the guest list for the next fundraiser."

Gibbs finished off his coffee, not missing the fact his team didn't make a move to follow his orders. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

Turning around he found Jack right in front of him, soft curves tantalizingly close. He could smell her scent; something warm and spicy, reminding him of hot Mexican afternoons he'd spent on a beach. Brown eyes melted away the annoyance he felt.

"They're too young." She pressed a hand against his chest, trying to stop him from pushing passed her.

Ducky stepped forward, seeming to break the tension between the two. "Jacqueline is right, Jethro. Both agents Bishop and Torres are far too young. We mean that in the nicest way possible, but our killer has an inkling for older couples."

Jethro stiffened, picking up on where the old doctor was headed with his insight. "No." He gave him a glare for good measure. He could see the realization dawn on Jack's face.

"Ducky's right, Boss. All three couples were in their fifties, and besides no one is going to believe Nick's old enough to be an Admiral. No offense, Nick." Tim met Torres' affirmative nod.

Jethro shook his head. It was the only viable option they had left. He couldn't make out the flickering of emotion in Jack's suddenly guarded eyes. It meant risking her life, working blindly until they found their killer. It was going to be hell, hiding the feelings he'd harbored for so long while she was going to be wrapped around his arm.

"McGee, get us on that list and help Kasie with the IDs." He watched the woman in front of him closely, hoping she'd suggest something else. "Bishop and Torres, get yourselves on the waiting staff, we're gonna need back up."

"I hope you're right, Jack." He whispered just behind her ear.

Tim watched the interaction between the two closely. Snapping his eyes back to his screen, he waited for both of them to leave. Stretching in his chair, he caught Ducky's secretive smile as he disappeared behind the staircase. Narrowing his eyes, he found Nick and Ellie sharing a look.

"So..." Ellie started, twirling a pencil nonchalantly. "Gibbs and Jack."

"I'm betting fifty, that by the end of the night, those two will be breaking rule twelve." Nick waved a crisp note in the air, adding to the office pool.

McGee shook his head with a smile. Suddenly missing a certain Very Special Agent, who would've had a decent pool going by now. Tapping a few keys to make sure the guest list included the right people, he pushed back his chair ready to help Kasie. Making his way to the back of the bullpen, he suddenly stopped.

"Do they know that this fundraiser is going to be a four-day affair, and that they'll have to share a room?"

* * *

_ **To Be Continued...** _


	2. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter was written well after midnight, so if it falls flat, blame the insomnia.

_ **401** _

_ **402** _

_ **403** _

She mentally counted the doors as they made their way down the hall. The bellhop was babbling away, rattling of all the luxuries their room held. She had expected something fancy, like the Adam's House. What they got was a privately owned estate, accommodating only wealthy families. She smoothed her hair down, the nervousness inside her manifesting.

Gibbs was right beside her, the weight of his large palm on her lower back sending her heart racing. It was something he'd done countless times before, it was welcoming, but it was causing her mind to spin in different directions all at once.

Jethro swallowed heavily as their room number came in to view, mentally cursing McGee.

_"It's four nights." The sheepish look on Tim's face was warning enough that what was to follow wasn't going to be any better. "One room."_

She was warm and soft beneath his touch, the material of her dress catching against his callused fingers. He could feel the tension radiate off her and he couldn't blame her. There was a lot at stake, one misstep on their part and they could spook the killer into hiding.

"Here we are, room 410." The bellhop pushed the door open. "A small private balcony overlooks the grounds.” Placing their suitcases near the bed, he straightened and headed for the door again. “Tonight's event will commence at seven."

Jack smoothed her blonde hair out of her face, growing increasingly annoyed with the loose strands. She smiled at the young man who seemed to be fresh out of high school. She saw Gibbs hand him a tip and silently glare him out of the room. The door closed with a soft thud, allowing her to relax briefly.

Jethro slid his hands in his pockets, eyes surveying the room, he could strangle McGee. Spending a tipsy night with Jack Sloane in his basement had tested his self control to its limits once already. The familiarity between them had made him comfortable, easily allowing her to breakdown his defenses. He watched her fidget with nervousness or frustration he wasn’t exactly sure.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he headed for the small balcony. Tension was rife in the room, almost suffocating, and he needed to clear his mind before they established themselves as a couple in that room tonight. Opening the doors and allowing the fresh air in, he stepped outside. The breeze was cool against his skin; a reminder that winter was on its way.

Communication between them and the team was limited. People who were invited here were politically involved, requiring a sweep of each room before check-in and after each early morning cleaning. Torres and Bishop had managed to get on the staff list for the event, serving as both eyes and ears for the next few days.

It was straight forward. They had to convince more than 200 people in to believing they were happily married and one of them to try and kill them.

Jethro felt the shiver run down his spine, hands braced against the wrought-iron railing, he looked over his shoulder. She was preoccupied with something, missing the way he was looking at her.

Undercover work blurred lines, broke rules and pushed him to act on instinct instead of rational thought. He had burnt his fingers before. Years later he still wondered who it was that had driven the redhead away. Standing alone with her leather coat and a letter. Had it been him or the persona he'd so easily slipped into? They had barely known each other back then, thrown into a conspiracy theory that had stretched well beyond their control.

The breeze swept through the room, teasing her hair off her neck, and he couldn’t help but admire the expanse of skin. There was more personal danger this time round. He knew her, already cared about her. There would be no pretense when he had to look at her in a way a husband would his wife, the feelings were already running rampant inside him. It was her response to him that had his feelings hanging in the balance.

Pushing away from the railing, he stepped back into the room, the cooler air seemed to have helped the trapped heat escape. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darker room. For once the silence surrounding them was uncomfortable. He was used to her talking, to him or herself, and not hearing her voice made him anxious.

Reaching for the crystal decanter that sat on the small bar, he took a whiff of the whiskey. Satisfied that it smelled strong enough, he filled one of the tumblers.

"Jack." She stopped halfway between the closet and where her suitcase was zipped open on the couch. He could see she was on edge, truth be told, so was he. "Have a drink." Holding out the tumbler, he exchanged it for the dress dangling off her fingers.

Taking the glass, she downed half of the amber alcohol. She met his gaze as he stared at her, the same way he stared at her when they shared a drink in his basement. She wondered what he hoped to see, considered asking him what he wanted to see, but for now she needed to compartmentalize.

The last time they had cracked a bottle of bourbon, they had ended up drunk on the basement floor. She had opened up towards him and in the vulnerability of the moment she had kissed him. They didn't talk about it. He never pressed her that night for answers and they had silently agreed to act like it never happened. Taking a deep breath, she handed the tumbler back.

"Thanks." Licking her lips, she reached for the dress, her fingers brushing over his knuckles. "I should get ready."

"You wearin' this?" The curiosity in his voice had her raising an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?"

Jethro shrugged his shoulders. "'S nice." Pale blue eyes took in every detail about her. "Can you carry?"

He felt his body react the moment she stepped into his personal space. Palm pressed against his abdomen, he could feel her touch burn through his shirt. Unable to fight the pull, he leaned closer, her dark eyes promising to reveal all her dirty secrets. The feel of her warm breath tickling his ear kicked his senses into overdrive.

"Don't worry, Cowboy, I'll pack enough heat for the both of us."

* * *

“_Can you see them?”_

“Jeez, I just got here.” Nick rolled his eyes at the voice in his ear. Ellie had bullied him into wearing the earwig since he’d be working the bar for the night. The long drawn out explanation reminded him why he hated the tech side of their job.

The room was already buzzing with socialites and investors. There was only a handful of military brass attending, none of whom had ever crossed paths with NCIS or Gibbs in particular. Scanning the room, Nick tried finding his partner. He bit back a smile as she stormed out of the kitchen doors, looking harried and ready to kill someone.

One of the guests shouted an order for whiskey on the rocks, snapping him back to his task. Grabbing a tumbler he filled it and passed it to the man who seemed well beyond hammered already. The older man grumbled something about keeping the change as he went back to socializing.

“We’re allowed to keep the tips right?” Torres muttered under his breath as he pocketed his share.

“_I don’t think they’re going to mind.”_ McGee answered.

Ellie appeared at the corner of the bar, motioning for him to replace the empty champagne flutes. “Why am I not surprised with how many politicians are alcoholics?” She motioned to the full bar, recognizing more than half the faces as important figures on the hill.

“Hey, as long as they tip me, I’m not saying anything.” Torres filled the last of the flutes.

“No fair.” Ellie grabbed her tray giving him a dark glare.

Nick smiled at her, bragging as he held up the tip. Movement near the door caught his attention. He motioned for her to look. “Heads up, they’re here.” He informed McGee as they watched them walking into the ballroom.

*******

Jack clutched the hand in hers tightly, smiling politely at the young woman who had taken their names and directed them towards their table. They’d had very little time to get their story straight. She had a feeling that he was going to leave it up to her to think of something.

“Jack.” His voice right in her ear almost made her jump. “Hold my hand, don’t break it.” She didn’t miss the amusement in his voice. Relaxing her grip, she glared at him, deciding she’d banish him to the couch instead of offering he take the bed.

As confident as she had pretended to be, the situation was quickly crashing down around her. It was a constant struggle to hide her feelings for him. He had rules against romantic relationships at work, and frankly she’d had her fair share of heartbroken colleagues.

A familiar face made her way towards them. It didn’t take much to see that Bishop was at the end of her tether with all the guests shouting orders at her. “Champagne?” She held up the tray, seemingly annoyed with even having to ask the question.

Jack smiled at her sympathetically, hoping she’d make it through the night before she tried killing someone or Nick for that matter. Bishop disappeared amongst the crowed again, leaving her alone with Gibbs once more. He felt stiff against her side, almost as uncomfortable as Bishop with having to be here. Giving him a strained smile, she pried her hand from his, still conscious about how tight she’d held his hand.

“You must be Jethro and Jacqueline Pearce.”

They both turned, taken aback that someone already knew who they were.

The woman was small in stature, her green eyes expressive and large as she looked between them, the smile on her face warm. Dark hair pinned back, she brushed a few wisps out of her face and reached to greet them. “I assumed you folks must be new. I know how overwhelming that can be.” She seemed to take an interest in Jack. “We’re sharing a table, so might as well get the introductions over with.” The southern twang in her words was barely noticeable, but they picked up on it immediately.

“Excuse my husband. He isn’t very sociable.” Jack whispered conspiratorially. Glancing at Gibbs, she saw him glare at her.

The woman threw her head back as she laughed. Jethro groaned internally, already dreading following the two women to their table.

Hobnobbing was one of the many reasons he preferred to work in the field as opposed to climbing the NCIS status ladder. Sipping the bourbon Nick had supplied them with. He felt Jack shift closer to him, the unease written all over her face. He narrowed his eyes at the other man yapping their ears off. They'd both noticed the man's need to touch whoever he was speaking with, and he hadn't liked it one bit.

Loosening his fingers from hers, he slipped his arm around her waist casually, or at least attempted to make it look casual. Pulling her closer against his side, he moved her just out of the other man's reach. He wasn't following the conversation, instead he scanned the room trying to memorize each face.

Their covers had been created as close to home as possible. She was a Forensic Psychologist, while he was a Master Gunnery Sergeant and CEO of a security firm based in Europe. They were both from San Diego, married twenty years with no children. Fitting each of their six victims backgrounds. No one seemed interested in him, preferring to strike up a conversation with Jack instead.

The feel of her twisting her body into his brought his attention back to the group. Looking down, he found her reaching for his bourbon instead. Reluctantly handing it over, he scowled at her as she placed the empty tumbler on a passing waiters tray.

Ellie watched from the bar, waiting as Nick filled the flutes with more champagne. She noted the way Gibbs seemed to glare at everyone, nothing unusual, but it wasn't exactly helping them lure their killer out of the group. Jack seemed to have everyone wrapped around her finger and she wondered what covert mind game she was playing with them.

"Did you see his tie matches her dress?" Nick asked, seemingly convinced that he was going to win the office pool solely on that information.

"That proves nothing." Ellie grabbed her tray. "It's kinda cute." She chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering if maybe there wasn't something between those two already.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but with that glare it looks more like they're getting a divorce."

"So tell him."

"What?! And lose my job because I told him to turn up the heat with Sloane? No, I have just the man for the job." Nick grinned as he picked up the phone.

* * *

The tap on his shoulder shifted the glare off those around him to focus on the waitress. The only indication that he was surprised to see Bishop interfere was the slight raise of his eyebrow.

"Mister Pearce, there's someone on the line for you out of London. He says it's urgent." Ellie pointed towards the bar to indicate where he should go before disappearing.

_Bloody McGee._

Navigating the throngs of people, he made his way up the three steps to the bar. Nick smiled at him, seemingly enjoying the repertoire he had going with a handful of drunks.

"Yeah."

_"Uh... Boss."_ The statistic was loud in his ear. _"We have a problem."_

Jethro balled his fists. "What problem?"

"_Well... Torres says that scuttlebutt amongst the guests are that you and Jack are getting a divorce."_

This was why he hated these types of events. "Then what do you suggest, McGee?"

Nick avoided the area where his boss was standing, knowing that the story he'd fed McGee was most likely going to get him in trouble.

_"I'm not suggesting anything, Boss, but we can't risk him killing again."_

"You think I don't know that?" He snapped.

The line was silent for a moment, the only sound the hum of the equipment McGee had set up in the van. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he motioned for Torres to bring him two more bourbons. “Fine, McGee. We’ll _turn up the heat_.” He used the phrase stiffly, glaring at Nick as he slammed the phone back in its cradle.

Nick smiled at his boss bashfully. “Work, am I right?”

Jethro was cut off before he could answer by an older woman who slid in next to him, leaning on the bar heavily. She slammed the martini glass on the surface. She crooked a finger at Nick, lips painted ruby red as she eyed the younger man.

“How about another martini, bedroom eyes?” She winked at him, giving Jethro a side eyed glance.

He shook his head, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to slip. He could see Nick turn on the charm as she promised to leave him a generous tip. Grabbing both bourbons, he shook his head as his agent turned his attention to the old woman.

It wasn’t hard to find her. She was still talking to the group of people they’d been with. He slowed his pace, noting the new face in the group. He grit his teeth. What’s-his-face’s suit was probably worth more than his monthly salary. Jethro narrowed his eyes as he reached for Jack’s hand, kissing it softly and dazzling her with a smile. He felt his stomach churn as he saw her try and step back. Tucking her hair behind her ear unconsciously, something he’d noticed she did when she was nervous.

Stepping up behind her, he could feel her sharp intake of breath as she pressed against him. Holding the tumbler of bourbon in front of her, he nuzzled his nose in her hair. He glared at the other man, aware of the awkwardness that had settled over the group. Placing a kiss to her temple, he placed his free hand against her stomach.

A bell went off somewhere in the room, alerting everyone that dinner was about to be served.

Tightening his hold on her, he made sure they were out of earshot. “McGee says we’re getting divorced.”

Jack snapped her head around, giving him a puzzled look. He was so close, his nose almost bumping hers, his aftershave wrapping around her. “Did I miss something?” There was no way she’d be able to sleep knowing how he felt pressed so close to her.

“No,” He smiled at her, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Team thinks we need to turn it up.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at how awkward he seemed with having to say it. She nodded, understanding where this was going. “So we can ward off people like Charles Lancaster.”

“Yeah.” He glared at the man who seemed to be sharing a table with them.

“Anything else before we join them?” She felt him chuckle, the vibration sending a hum through her and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Torres got himself a cougar.” Jethro nuzzled his nose in her hair again. The strands were silky soft against his skin. He was taking advantage of their cover. She seemed to enjoy to the notion, and he was relieved that she wasn’t too uncomfortable with some of his advances. He could feel her laugh as she buried her face against his shoulder, curious to see who had snared Torres.

“Ellie’s going to have a field day.” She whispered in his ear before grabbing his hand and leading him to their table.

*******

The conversation seemed to be flowing among the table, jumping between sports and politics to world events. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he examined everyone around them. He hardly participated in any of the conversations, instead he sipped his wine and talked only when someone asked him something.

Mary-Ann, the woman who had taken it upon herself to be their friend, leaned closer to her. “I thought my Reginald was quiet, but your husband really doesn’t say much.” She smiled, taking away years from the seventy-five-year-old lines on her face.

Jack glanced at Gibbs again, blue eyes studying her curiously as she smiled at him and then turned back to the brunette. “He’s been the strong silent type since I met him.”

“Oh, do tell us how you met.” The request came from a young woman seated right next to Reginald. Jack smiled at the young woman. She seemed far too young to be mingling with these people. It was the same woman whose twenty-something husband was drunk at the bar flirting with anything wearing a skirt.

“Yes, I enjoy a good love story.” Mary-Ann piped up, leaving no room for excuses as she grabbed her wine and turned her attention towards them.

She had dreaded this part of the night. Glancing back at Gibbs, she could see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he waited for her to begin. He placed a hand on the back of her neck, massaging the tense muscles. He gave her an encouraging squeeze.

“San Diego had been hit by a severe storm that year. My car had broken down in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Five houses later, he was the first to open the door.” Jack leaned into his touch.

“Almost broke down my door.” He interjected, meeting the brown eyes that had won him over that night. He was relieved she was sticking as close to the truth as possible. It made recalling the story much easier when someone questioned them later.

There was a collective chuckle among the group.

“I was consulting with the military at the time, and we got to talking. It didn’t hurt that we shared a love for coffee. The rest, as they say, is history.” Jack turned to look at him again. He didn’t make a secret of the fact that he hated how she had played games with him the first time they met.

She bit her lip as he smiled at her.

“It reminds me of the McClain’s.” Mary-Ann broke the moment between them.

Jethro shifted forward in his chair, reaching for the nearly empty tumbler of bourbon. He noticed Jack turn her attention to the conversation as well. They hadn’t bargained on the latest victims being discussed, but he was curious to see what they knew.

“Such a tragedy.” She clutched at the cross around her neck. “They were a lot like you two. All loved up and sweet. They were killed in a home invasion a few days ago, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

Jethro raised an eyebrow. There was no official press release; word of mouth was that it was a home invasion gone wrong. He sipped his whiskey, playing absentmindedly with the tips of Jack’s hair.

“Hush, woman.” Reginald snapped, he seemed irritated with her. “It’s none of our business what happened. The same way the other two home invasions were none of our business.”

The old woman rolled her eyes at the grouchy old man. She reached for Jack’s hand, squeezing it tightly as she smiled at her. “You two kids be careful. Lord only knows what evil lurks out there.”

The atmosphere quickly changed as the band started playing. They were promptly left alone, most of the men heading to the bar while the rest led their wives to the dance floor. Jack brushed her hair out of her face, turning to look at Gibbs as he drained the last of his bourbon. Pushing her glass towards him, she smiled as he accepted it gratefully.

“You wanna dance?” He asked as he placed the glass on the table. The question seemed to physically pain him.

“No,” She laughed, squeezing his thigh playfully. “I won’t do that to you tonight.”

* * *

The evening air was cold as they meandered through the shrubbery to where McGee had parked the van. Nick pulled the door open, immediately taking out his earwig. Ellie wasn’t far behind closing the door with a soft thud, looking almost dead on her feet as she flopped down in one of the chairs.

“Tomorrow night, we switch. I worked harder than you and all I got was fifty bucks from Gibbs for supplying him with bourbon most of the night.” Ellie grumbled as she took out the pins in her hair, she groaned as she stretched her neck.

“At least your fifty bucks came with no strings attached. That Williams lady still thinks I’m keeping her company tonight when the party’s over.” Nick snapped back, eye red rimmed and tired.

“It must suck to be you.” McGee commented as he spun around in his chair.

“Tim, she’s like a hundred years old.” Nick grimaced.

Ellie chuckled from her spot, eyeing her partner. “On second thought, you keep playing barman. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your cougar’s territory.”

Tim shook his head. Knowing that if he didn’t step in they’d be throwing insults at each other all night long. “You guys see anyone suspicious?”

Both shook their heads.

“They did seem more like a married couple after you phoned, so guess that’s a good thing.” Nick supplied. “Did you manage to get into the security system?”

McGee nodded, swinging his chair back to the computer screens set up for surveillance. “They don’t have a very secure system, so it was easy. I looped the feed long enough to install a motion sensor on their room door. They shouldn’t be able to pick up the device when they sweep the room tomorrow morning.”

“I still think this is a really bad idea.” McGee spoke after a while. Watching his boss and Jack as they appeared on the surveillance screens.

They tracked them all the way to their room. The door opened and they watched as they disappeared from sight.

“Why didn’t it ping?” Bishop asked as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“The motion sensor is programmed to only recognize their key card.” Seeing how tired his team mates were, he shooed them away. “Get some sleep, tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

Nick helped Ellie out of her chair, holding the door open as she stepped out into the cold night air. Handing her his jacket, he turned back to McGee. “Why it this a bad idea?” He watched as Tim ran a hand over his chin, smoothing down his beard.

“Let’s just say the last time two agents shared a room, they ended up having a kid.”

* * *

Kicking off her heels, she sighed as she dug her toes into the soft carpet. “How do you wanna do this?” She turned around just as he loosened his tie. The look on his face was steely, not giving away anything. Closing her eyes, she replayed the question, realizing what it implied. Trying to hide the blush, she ran a hand through her hair.

“I meant sleeping arrangements.” The lines on his face disappeared as she clarified her question and she didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved. “I’ll take the couch. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

There wasn’t a snowball’s hope in hell that she was going to suggest they share the bed. It was challenging enough not full on kissing him when he touched her or nuzzled his nose in her hair most of the night. Sleeping next to him might threaten the self control the Army had drilled into her. It was already going to be tough sleeping knowing he was only a few feet away.

“No.” He shook his head as he slipped his jacket off. “You take the bed. I got the couch.”

Jack rolled her eyes, there was no point in arguing with him. “Fine, you can have the shower first then.”

He nodded, grabbing his duffel and disappearing into the bathroom. She waited until she could hear the shower turn on before collapsing on the bed. Confusion was running rampant inside her, the line between giving in and control slipping with each passing moment. He was giving her mixed signals. He didn’t hide his freedom of touching her while they mingled with everyone. But as soon as they were alone he’d stopped whatever physical contact they’d shared.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before the water was shut off and the door opened. She watched as he folded his clothes neatly. Grabbing the blankets, she’d fished out of a closet; she handed them over as he met her hallway. She rummaged through her own small duffel, hoping she’d had the common sense to back something decent enough to sleep in.

Jack placed her things in the bathroom, contemplating how she was getting herself out of the dress. It was easy zipping it up, or at least it was for her, but getting it undone usually required a second set of hands. Finding him in front of the fireplace, she smiled at him almost embarrassed.

“You think you could unzip me?” There was no fighting the blush that shot across her cheeks as he chuckled and nodded.

The scent of his soap washed over her as he stepped up behind her, helping her move her hair over one shoulder. She held her breath as his calloused fingers brushed over the nape of her neck. His touch was warm against her skin as he found the small zipper. She grit her teeth, knowing he’d see the scars on her back. Even though he’d seen them before, it was one of the many imperfections she wished she could hide. She felt his fingers run down her spine, sending a shiver through her.

“Thanks.” She shot inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Jethro pressed his lips together, silently chastising himself. He’d pushed a little too much and now he couldn't avoid her when she came back out. Resigning himself to the couch, he left the bedside lamp on. He’d pretend to be asleep when she came out, at least then she wouldn’t feel awkward around him.

The fire crackled in the hearth, the snapping of the logs lulling him almost to sleep. It was the clatter of something in the bathroom that jolted him awake. He strained to hear if she was okay, when he heard her swear he just smiled and settled back down.

The fire continued to crackle as she opened the bathroom door. Switching the light off before it could reveal he was still awake. He took in the baggy sweats and green Army t-shirt. He’d prefer seeing her in one of his Marine t-shirts, but he couldn’t deny the Army one looked good on her too.

She seemed to play along with his ruse of being asleep.

The light was switched off, leaving only the fire to give off some light. He listened as she shuffled around in the bed, blankets and pillows either hitting the floor or being fussed with until she was comfortable.

“Night.” She whispered quietly, just in case he really was asleep.

“Night, Jack.” He heard her sigh, the sheets rustling one last time as she settled down.

Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his breathing enough to fall asleep. Something that turned out to be futile.

*******

The soft breeze that swept through the room was what jolted him out of his semi sleepy state. He blinked a few times, trying to see what was going on. The fire had dwindled down to a few embers, leaving the room almost cold. Licking his lips, he sat up, hoping he’d be able to stoke the fire without waking her up in the process. Throwing the blankets to one side, he quickly got the fire going again.

Checking to see if she was still okay, he realized that the bed was empty, the covers thrown haphazardly on the floor and her missing. The bathroom door was still open and the light off. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he scanned the dark room to see if she had left.

The doors leading out to the balcony thudded quietly in its frame, alerting him where the cold breeze was coming from. Focusing on the pitch black night, he could just make out her figure standing outside. Deciding to leave her be, he went back to the couch, pulling the covers over himself and turning so he was facing the fire.

He wondered what had prompted her to go outside. It was freezing and the last thing he needed was for her to get sick.

Sighing, he threw the covers back and got up, padding softly to the door and pushing it open. He scowled as he realized she wasn’t wearing a jacket. Treating her like a child would most definitely ensure her kicking his ass over the railing.

Clearing his throat, she spun around, hand clutching at the green material of her shirt. Recognition quickly flickered across her face and she relaxed marginally. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” She apologized, her voice still thick with sleep.

He shrugged. Crossing his arms he stepped up next to her, staring at nothing in particular. “Nightmare?”

Years in the core and even more time in the field had taught him that no one could escape some of the horrors they faced. She nodded tensely, clearly at ease with allowing him to see that she was still fighting against the lingering effects of Afghanistan. “Drink?” It was the only comfort he could really offer her.

Jack shook her head, if she started drinking now, she might never stop. “Just needed some air. Strange surroundings.”

Jethro raised an eyebrow in agreement. He still had issues with enclosed spaces or spending more than a few seconds with his head underwater.

“We can leave the bedside lamp on. Doesn’t bother me.” He smiled when she shook her head and laughed softly.

He’d never seen her look so beautiful. Hair tousled and knotted from sleep, her eyes soft and warm as she gazed up at him. She looked like she had that night in his basement, half drunk and playful. He’d give anything to go back and make her talk about why she’d kissed him, do anything to kiss her again.

Maybe it was the events from the night, or maybe later he’d blame it on the amount of whiskey he’d consumed.

Cupping her cheek in his palm, he brought her closer to him, feeling the length of her press warmly against him. Long lashes fluttered and he felt himself drowning in her dark eyes. Leaning down, he slipped his fingers in her hair, feeling her rise on tip toes to meet him. He brushed his lips against hers, kissing her lightly, her nose cold against his cheek as they parted. He felt her smile against his lips, drawing out his own.

“Jack...”

* * *

_ **To Be Continued...** _


	3. Devil In Disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a month I know. This needed several rewrites. Prepare for some seriously rushed parts and cheesy cliches.

“Jack...”

She bunched the material of his shirt in her fists, wanting to push him away and pull him closer all in the same breath. He felt undeniably warm against her, all hard muscle and strength. Why did this have to be so complicated?

Unable to fight the urge, she cupped his cheeks, enjoying the feel of his light stubble against her palms. Nudging his nose gently with her own, she leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Brushing her lips against his, she kissed him. Pressing her hand against his cheek when he tried deepening it, she pulled back.

His breath was hot against her cold skin, reminding her how long she’d been stood outside. She burrowed closer to the heat of his body. He was watching her again, fluttering his pretty man-lashes unknowingly at her, beckoning her to kiss him again.

_Fuck! Why did he have to be so handsome?_

“We shouldn’t.” Jack whispered against his lips.

The soft look on his face disappeared, an emotionless mask falling in place, hiding what he’d so willingly let her see. He let her go, arms dropping to his sides, tension taking over his muscles. Digging her fingers into his shirt, she stopped him from pulling away. “I don’t think you understand.”

She heard the quiet in take of breath, had witnessed the cold and dangerous look all before. Placing a hand over his mouth, she didn’t miss the anger glinting in his icy stare. She respected him, valued his opinions, but he didn’t understand her hesitation.

Tightening her grip on his shirt, she stopped him from stepping away. He was still rigid against her, muscles coiled tight to run the first chance he got. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against his cheek, the steadiness of his breathing calming her somewhat.

"I want this." She murmured against his throat.

He relaxed, allowing her to settle more comfortably against him. He grabbed her hips, trying to stop her from stepping away from him. Jethro nuzzled his nose in her hair, taking in the smell of her shampoo.

"But..." He prompted. He'd recognized the hesitation in her voice even before she'd finished the sentence. He didn't want to think about what his lack of control meant.

She sighed, the tension that had left him taking up residence in her spine as she stepped away from him. The warm and inviting brown eyes that could make his knees go weak, were guarded suddenly. It stirred all kinds of things inside him. He'd always been protective over those close to him, it wasn't something he was going to apologize for. If she knew how_ overly protective_ he was of her, she might kick his ass.

“This is not us.” The regret in her voice almost had him kissing her again.

The words slammed in his throat, realization dawning on him.

“Gibbs, that wasn’t us in that room.” Jack brushed her thumb over his cheek, noting his eyes flutter for a moment, she stepped away from him. “I don’t do casual.”

Neither did he. There was no fighting her on this, he had his own hesitation about starting something that might not live well beyond a few nights.

“After?” He didn’t want to pressure her, and he sure as hell didn’t want her thinking he was pushing his luck. Did he have to sound so desperate?

Biting her lip, she studied him. Blue eyes boring into her. She’d never seen him so... insecure. Leroy Jethro Gibbs, insecure?

Pulling him flush against her, she kissed him. It took him a moment to realize what was happening before wrapping her up and kissing the breath right out of her.

The grin she gave him as they pulled apart had his gut clenching with excitement. She shivered, pressing against him tightly. Rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm her, he pressed his lips against her temple. “You’re freezing.”

“Got any ideas on how to warm me up?” Jack rocked her hips against his, enjoying the way his jaw clenched. Teasing him was going to be fun.

“Jack…”

The throaty laugh sent another jolt to his gut, this time settling lower than before.

* * *

It didn’t surprise her in the least that he’d brought along his own coffee grounds and all the necessary means to make it. She pressed the plastic cup against her cheek, allowing it to warm her. The crackling fire was comforting, the warm air and light it offered chasing away the demons that still lingered. Pushing the memories to the back of her mind, she sipped her coffee.

He’d silently offered her his blankets, mentioning something about keeping her from catching her death. He was stretched out beside her, knee resting casually against her thigh. Licking her lips, she moved a little closer to him, soaking up his body heat.

“I’m touched, Cowboy.” She murmured in his ear while running a finger over his cheek.

He grumbled as he turned towards her touch, lips pressing a promising kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Didn’t want trouble in paradise.”

The sound of her laughter wrapped around him. “You’re already sleeping on the couch. Can’t get any worse than that.”

He met her eyes with a challenging look. If two sports-equipment wielding ex-wives taught him anything, is that it could get worse.

Taking her hand, he placed it on the back of his head, pressing her fingers against his scalp. He fought against the urge to close his eyes as she traced the scars. She leaned closer, pressing against his shoulder warmly, her fingers running through his hair. This time he couldn’t fight the heavy pull of his eyelids. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had run her fingers through his hair…

The silver strands were soft between her fingers. She’d heard via Tim McGee that ex-wife one and two had been responsible for the head injuries she’d encountered in his personnel file. How the Senior Field Agent had known she’d been casually perusing his boss' file was still a mystery to her. He had smiled at her, indicating with a simple look that her secret was safe with him.

“Charles Lancaster.” Jethro muttered suddenly, eyes blinking open. “What’s your read on him?”

Jack stilled, trying to decipher what had prompted the sudden question. Pursing her lips, she tried to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. There was too little to go on. “He’s well educated. Has a way with the ladies. But I don’t think he’s our guy.”

“Don’t like him.” Jethro growled darkly.

Jack rolled her eyes, slipping her fingers in his hair again, she smoothed some hair off his forehead. “Please, you didn’t like anyone in that room.”

Jethro shrugged nonchalantly, blue eyes twinkling as he pressed into her touch and looked at her. “I like you."

She laughed again, and he wondered what it would take to hear it all the time. He could just make out the blush shooting across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks in the dim light. _Fuck_, he really wanted to kiss her right now. Knowing what it felt like having her pressed against him only intensified the urge to drag her over to the large bed. Closing his eyes in hopes to control himself, he focused instead on the feel of her fingers combing through his hair.

The first indication that he was losing the battle against the fatigue pulling at him was the tilt of his head towards her. The lack of response when she whispered his name only cemented the fact that he had fallen asleep. Placing the empty coffee cup on the floor, she tried maneuvering herself free.

“Stay.” He sighed against her side, still seeking some form of contact with her.

“Ass.” She murmured, rolling her eyes at herself. Of course he wasn’t that deep a sleeper. The soft laugh he let slip, reverberated through her and she found herself unable to deny him anything.

* * *

The kink in his neck was the first thing that roused him, the stiffness making its way to the base of his skull. Jethro groaned, reaching up to knead the tension away. The movement seemed to disturb the softness pressed against his cheek, forcing him to open his eyes. He blinked against the bright light streaming through the open curtains.

“Five more minutes.” Jack growled as a knock on the door echoed throughout the room.

Jethro swore under his breath. “Who is it?!” He snapped, hoping his tone would scare off whoever waited on the other side.

“_Room service!”_ Ellie’s voice drifted through the door.

The door swung open revealing a worse for wear boss who seemed more irritated than the last time she saw him. Pushing the cart into the room, she closed the door behind her.

There had been a heavy debate over who was going to catch them with their hands in the cookie jar, so to speak. Torres had deemed himself responsible enough, arguing he wouldn’t make unnecessary assumptions. His plans had been thwarted when Mrs Williams had asked he personally deliver her breakfast. Ellie bit her lip wondering if she’d be seeing her partner today.

Tension was rife in the room, not at all missing the glances they stole at each other as she pretended to busy herself with something.

Bishop pulled a small duffel out from underneath the cloth draped over the cart. She motioned the duffel towards Gibbs. “McGee sent this, said he doubted you had anything suitable for today’s polo event.”

Jack snorted a laugh, biting her lip against the smile as he grabbed the duffel.

“Kasie found something strange in our latest victim’s blood work. She sent it for further testing, since her mass spec is on the fritz.”

“How strange?” Gibbs prompted.

Ellie shrugged. “She suspects our last victim was drugged, but she isn’t sure since the last substance test she did came back as a false positive.”

“Keep us posted, can’t let this guy get to us.” Gibbs shooed Ellie away, heading for the bathroom.

Both women waited for the door to close before looking at each other.

Ellie tucked her hair behind her ears, surveying the room closely. The covers on the bed indicated that at least someone had slept in it. The couch had been converted into a makeshift bed, wondering if it was just a ploy to make it look all professional.

“He made you sleep on the couch?” It was a poor attempt at trying to get some information on who slept where last night. She had assumed since Jack had been seated on the couch when she came in.

Jack raised a curious eyebrow. Gibbs was many things and she could probably add a few more to the list, but he was kind and considerate despite his hard-ass attitude. Seeing Ellie’s question for what it was, she crossed her arms, giving the younger woman a pointed look.

“You won’t catch any fish with questions like that.” Jack teased, seeing the blush colour Ellie’s pale cheeks.

“I didn’t mean-”

Holding up a hand, she smiled. “Go, before he finds you here.”

Taking the gentle command as her cue, she returned the other blonde's smile and headed for the door.

The hallway was empty, allowing for a quick escape to the service elevator. Slapping the down button she eyed the door to the room she’d just come from.

“They definitely did it.”

* * *

They were on the fourth chukka, the midday sun chasing away the crisp winter morning air. Jack brushed her hair back off her face, the light breeze was driving her crazy. There was chatter all around them, people placing bets on which team would win.

“I thought the Kentucky Derby was the only time you could bet on horses.” The casual statement was meant for Mary-Ann, who seemed extremely invested in the eight players on the field.

“These people will bet on anything.” The answer came from someone she’d least expected. Her head snapped up, thankful for the sunglasses she had thought to wear, she glared at whoever was looming over her.

Charles Lancaster grinned down at her, revealing perfectly white teeth. There was no denying the man standing in front of her was undeniably attractive. A roguish glint sparkled in his eyes, indicating that he was a little too reckless for a man of his status. Brunet hair combed into a neat side parting revealed more about his personality than the expensive name on his suit.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, but I did notice you were alone.” He smiled at her again, a trick she was sure he used to get his way with women. “The old lady loves the ponies.”

The old lady in question was now right next to the field. “I guess she does.” Jack gave him a weak smile, hoping he’d take the hint to leave her alone.

“May I?” He indicated to the empty chair next to her.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he was hoping to do. She had to play the situation just right. Gibbs had been suspicious of him from the beginning, but she wasn’t sure if it was personal or case related. Taking the blazer that was hanging over the back of the chair, she placed it on her lap and motioned to the empty seat.

“I take it your husband is betting with the old boys as well.” Charles grinned at her.

He smelled like some high priced male cologne that went with his overpriced suit. Taking a closer look at him from behind her sunglasses, he actually reminded her of Nigel Ford. Tall, masculine and the undeniable charm that could win a woman over. She’d fallen victim to it a number of times.

“No, he’s probably hunting down the nearest coffee cart.” She smiled at the thought.

She couldn’t say she was surprised that Gibbs had found an excuse to leave. She’d seen the pained look on his face when they’d been squished into an allocated seating area with the group they had shared dinner with. Attending agency meetings was already a thorn in his side, after this he might actually retire.

“I couldn’t help but overhear. You’re a Forensic Psychologist. Is it as glamorous as they make it?” He seemed truly interested, olive eyes tracing her features as he stared at his reflection in the sunglasses.

Taking a deep breath, she took off her shades, hooking them on the neckline of her dress. Not missing the way the man’s eyes watched the movement. She started to get a clear picture of whom Charles Lancaster was. He was the type of man she usually enjoyed spending a night with. Although it was more the opportunity to exercise the control the Army had instilled.

Men like him had fantasies. Those who knew her history usually had a clear picture of a babe in Army greens and a misconception of what her psychological knowledge meant. Although she suspected a certain former Marine had some similar fantasies. Somewhere a bell went off in her head. She’d been measuring men to him for the last two years, each coming up short when they didn’t meet the Leroy Jethro Gibbs standard.

“Some days, yes. Other’s not so much.” The curiosity of the man next to her was intriguing. There were still some reservations about him. After all she could potentially be dancing with the devil.

The shift was imperceptible, but she caught it none the less. It was the subtle way he drew back, busying the hand constantly trying to touch her with something in his breast pocket.

The hand on her shoulder was possessive, the heat rolling off him welcoming. Reaching for the calloused fingers on her shoulder, she turned to look up at him. On any given day he was a force to be reckoned with. The dark look on his face made it clear that he was in a worse mood than when they’d first arrived at the polo match.

“I’ll see you around.” Charles addressed her, his eyes never straying to the man behind her. She didn’t know if he was avoiding being killed or intentionally playing with fire.

“What did he want?” Jethro growled as he helped her to her feet, offering her his coffee cup.

Jack bit her lip, handing him his blazer. When all this was over, she was going to have to talk to Leon in regards to giving Timothy McGee a well deserved raise. She’d seen Gibbs in everything from suits to the casual jeans and hoodie he wore during poker nights. He’d been in a bad mood since appearing in the attire McGee had provided for him.

The dark tan shoes she’d seen before. The cream trousers, on the other hand, were clearly two sizes too small. She’d watched him walk away earlier, and she along with a handful of other women couldn’t help but admire the way the trouser _hugged _him just_ right._

“What did he want?” The repeated question drew a smile from her.

She shrugged nonchalantly, hoping to hide the fact that she’d been blatantly checking him out. Perhaps her gaze had lingered at his belt a little too long. Taking a drink from the bitter coffee he’d offered her. She licked her lips, allowing her gaze to flick down the length of him again.

He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She was all too willing to play with him. Releasing her grip on the coffee cup, she watched him take a swallow. Enjoying the way his eyes seemed to darken at the taste. Dropping a light kiss to the corner of his lips, she trailed kisses to his ear.

“Now, Jethro, you know I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

He had always assumed that the first time she’d say his name it would be out of anger. It seemed to be the one thing that made the word roll off a woman’s tongue.

Not her.

_Oh, no, definitely not her._

She would always tease him, with her bright smile and alluring whiskey brown eyes. It seemed fitting that the first time she’d utter his name it would be to tease him, to burrow deeper under his skin as she leaned into him. He could smell the California sun on her skin, warm and enticing. He hoped she never wanted to go back, prayed that he wouldn’t give her reason to leave.

* * *

Tugging at the fabric didn’t help much, but it soothed his irritation. If he’d known how much monkey suits this shindig required he would have insisted on Torres and Bishop taking their place. He’d definitely be doling out some well deserved head slaps once this case was closed. Starting with Timothy McGee, who needed some serious retraining with his measurements.

Jethro scratched at his chest, the bottle of whiskey was tempting, but he couldn’t afford to drink tonight. At least not as much as he had the night before. He needed to keep his head clear, before he planted his fist neatly in Charles Lancaster’s over bleached teeth.

“Ready, Cowboy?” Her voice wrapped around his senses.

He didn’t attempt hiding the way he seemed to stare at her. Hair curled softly around her shoulders, eyes dark and seductive. The delicate gold chain drew his attention down her throat to where it was nestled between her breasts. The v-neckline dipped lower than what he thought appropriate, allowing him to appreciate her tanned skin.

“Yeah.” He sounded almost winded as she stepped closer.

Jack licked her lips. He smelled like _Old Spice _and the comforting undertone of wood. After years of building boats she assumed it had taken up permanent residence on his skin. It soothed her, assured her that everything was okay. Yet, there was a nervousness in the pit of her stomach she just couldn’t quill and it was bothering her.

“You look handsome.” She touched the bow tie, impressed with how neatly he’d done it. Briefly pondering the idea of an elderly ME patiently coaching a certain short-tempered agent.

She’d taken his lingering gaze and stormy blue eyes as compliment, had fought against the heat settling deep inside her as his pupils dilated. The tuxedo set off his broad shoulders, the contrast between the dark material and his hair urging her to run her fingers through the silver strands.

He was close, close enough that if she tilted her head she could brush her lips against his. It was tempting to simply forego tonight’s silent auction and drag him to the nearest flat surface.

“We should go.” She whispered against his lips, enjoying the way he placed his experienced hands on her hips.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between frustrated and desperate.

The teasing, the promise of more after this. It heightened the attraction, knowing that they could disregard their reservations and plunge head first into something that could be blissfully sweet. She was distracted, by his lips barely touching hers, the feel of him so close to her. She’d missed the shift of his palm. It wasn’t until his fingers lightly grabbed at her ass that she met his mischievous gaze.

“Smooth, Jethro.”

He groaned against her throat as he dropped his head to her shoulder. She’d seen his reaction when she’d used his name. The clench of his jaw, the way he’d stared at her mouth. She resisted the invitation to run her fingers through his hair and instead forced him to take a step back.

Jethro straightened, offering her his arm and meeting her smirk with one of his own.

They made their way down the hall to the elevator in silence. Both trying to mentally prepare for the crowd they were about to encounter once they stepped into the lobby.

The elevator dinged its arrival, the doors sliding open softly.

“Called McGee.” Gibbs spoke, breaking the silence. “Had him run background on Lancaster.”

Jack gave him a coquettish grin, lashes fluttering as he looked at her. “Like I knew you would.”

He wasn’t surprised in the least that she had suspected he'd check into the man. It was comforting that she knew him well enough not to question his motives or his trust in her. It was more a concern for her safety than to prove her wrong.

“And?” She elbowed him lightly.

“Bankrupt a few times, single,” he shrugged “You get the picture.”

“Anything else?” She didn’t miss the worry flashing in his eyes.

“Told Tim to dig deeper, see if he knew any of our victims.”

The bell dinged again, signaling their arrival. Jack gave him a smile, trying to hide the fact that McGee’s research didn’t rule out Charles Lancaster and she was starting to get nervous.

The sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor was drowned out by the noise coming from the ballroom. She could feel Gibbs stiffen, felt the way his bicep flexed under her touch. Dropping a kiss on his cheek, she felt his lips brush hers.

“Two hours and we make a run for it, Cowboy.”

* * *

When all this was over there was going to be a complaint. Brushing a wisp of blonde hair off her face, she glared at another waiter that pushed her aside. She’d been chastised for not tying her hair properly, screamed at for being to slow and now the others seemed to have turned on her as well.

Eleanor Bishop glared daggers at her partner as he casually chatted with a young woman who was at least fresh out of college. She was two counts of 10 away from pulling her Sig out, and he was flirting the night away.

“_Bishop.”_ She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“McGee, I told you not to do that.” Ellie hissed under her breath.

“_Sorry, but I coughed like three times and you didn’t respond.”_

Bishop fiddled with the earwig, annoyed with the piece of plastic in her ear. “Busy!” The indignant shout was at both Tim and another waiter who wanted something from her.

“_He’s still talking to her, isn’t he?”_

She rolled her eyes. Catching Torres' wandering gaze she discreetly signaled him that McGee was looking for him. She could see the other woman giggle at something he said before grabbing a tray and heading for the door leading back into the chaos.

“What was that?” She didn’t hide her anger this time.

Nick waved her off. “Relax. I was gathering intel.”

Taking a hold of her sleeve, he led her to the emergency exit where it was quiet. He looked around suspiciously. “Seems like the guy Gibbs is suspecting has a history with our victims. Rumor has it that Lancaster was coming on to our all three our female victims.”

“Where’d you hear this?” Ellie chewed her lip.

“Misses Williams this morning.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Nick’s face paled, already seeing the cogs turn in his partner’s head. “No, Bishop, it’s nothing like that.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “What I meant was that-"

“Spare me the details.” She cut him off. “She didn’t seem suspicious of why you were asking?” Keeping an eye on the people passing by.

“She was already drunk by then. Got a big tip though.” Nick pulled the money out of his shirt pocket, holding it up mockingly.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I bet you did, Nick.” The smile dropped from his face.

“I’ve been trying to call them, but it just goes to voice mail.” Nick saw one of the other bartenders step into the kitchen, clearly searching the place for him. Opening the emergency exit door, he stepped outside. “Gibbs and Jack aren’t answering their cellphones. I’ll get the message to them. Keep you in the loop.”

* * *

Jack leaned her head against Gibbs’ shoulder, contemplating whether she was drunk or just tired. The night was dragging its feet. She’d meticulously checked his watch to see if they could leave yet. It had only been an hour since they’d stepped foot in the ballroom. Another hour before they could hightail it and go back to the luxurious room waiting for them. She’d made it clear that nothing would happen while they worked the case, but if he kept kissing her when he thought no one was watching she couldn’t make any promises.

Jacqueline Sloane would never admit to the butterfly feeling, but dammit. When he looked at her with full blown pupils and a grin that only spelled trouble, she couldn’t help the quiver that settled in the pit of her stomach. They had slipped out the moment no one was paying attention. She shivered in the cold winter air, silently wondering how much it would take to convince Gibbs to go back to their room.

He caught her reaction to the cold even before she’d shivered. Slipping off his jacket he draped over her shoulders, pulling her into his side as she sighed in appreciation.

“Guess a San Diego winter isn’t so bad after all.” Jack sighed as she dropped her head back against his shoulder.

Jethro tensed, unable to ignore the obvious longing in her voice. “What’s keepin’ you from goin’ back?”

It was more curiosity that made him ask the question. Long cold nights spent down in the basement allowed his mind to wander all over the place. He often wondered what had brought her all the way to Washington DC. As far as he could tell her family was be back in California, although she’d only ever mentioned them once.

Faith was here and Leon. Given the lack of relationship between mother and daughter, he’d deducted that Leon had something to do with her final choice.

He was having a tough time gauging her reaction in the dim light. Taking her closeness as a good sign, he waited her out. Did he really want her to answer? It seemed like what ever she decided to say would tip the precariously balanced relationship between them.

“Oh... all sorts of things.” It was a neutral answer, and he was going to take it for what it was.

Jack turned to meet his gaze, but he seemed to be focused on something else. He wasn’t looking for some heartfelt confession of love and undying devotion. He wanted the truth and after everything they’d shared, she owed him at least that much.

“Leon wanted me to transfer ever since he moved here.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It was just never the right time. Something just kept coming up.” She sighed, resting her head back against his shoulder, dark eyes searching the night sky.

“After Jackie died, we kinda lost touch for a while.” She watched the sadness flash across his face. “One day he called and said it was the last time he’d ask.”

Jethro shifted, fingers digging into her hip as she breathed softly in his ear. Working out everything in his head, he assumed the phone call had been somewhere between Paraguay and their return. He could feel his head throb and joints ache at the thought.

“I think it’s the steaks, don’t know anyone else who cooks them like you, Cowboy.” Jack looked at him, watching the corner of his mouth twitch with an ill concealed smirk.

He made a sound in the back of his throat that had her curling towards him. Placing her hands on his chest, she could feel the muscles ripple through his shirt. Touching the bow tie again, she tapped his chin gently to have him look at her. His eyes were bright as he finally dragged his eyes away from where her hands were resting.

There was no fighting him as he leaned closer, she wanted this as much as he did. She should’ve known she’d abandon her resolve for him. She’d walk through hell for him.

He tasted like _Jack Daniels_, fingers digging into her hips as he yanked her closer, the little finesse he possessed long gone. He knew what he wanted, and it turned her on more than she cared to admit. She didn’t fight the soft whimper of his name that slipped as he gathered a fist full of hair and tugged gently.

She felt the soft scratch of his stubble against her cheek where he’d missed. Heat flooded her stomach, muscles clenching involuntarily at the thought of his stubble scratching against her inner thighs. Lips clung as she pulled away to catch her breath.

Gibbs held her close, the hand in her hair settling on the nape of her neck. He trailed kisses along her jaw, nipping softly at her ear lobe. The soft intake of breath only spurred him on, determined to have her moan his name again.

He didn’t fight against the thigh that nudged his knees apart, growling in her ear as she purposely rocked her hips. “Think it’s been two hours.” He whispered in her ear, grinning when she laughed.

“Guess you better see a girl to her room then.” The smile he gave her had her biting her lip with anticipation.

The hunger with which he kissed her had her moaning his name again.

“Uh, Boss?”

The uncertain voice belonged to one Timothy McGee, who seemed far less stunned than the other two loitering behind him in the dark. The Senior Field Agent shifted uncomfortably, casting his eyes down to his shoes when he saw his boss glaring at him.

Nick snorted quietly, turning his back to Gibbs and Jack, the grin on his face almost wrapping around his head. He cocked his eyebrow at Bishop who was doing a poor job at hiding her actual surprise. “You owe me fifty, and another one for all the cougar harassment.”

Jethro clenched his jaw, watching his team as they all seemed to recover simultaneously. Scuttlebutt was going to be rife in the office once everything went back to normal. It was already rampant with all sorts of things his team thought he was unaware of.

“Speak, McGee.” He bit out roughly, knowing that if he didn’t scare at least one of them they’d be tempted to ask questions. Especially Torres.

Jack tucked her hair behind her ear, not missing the exchange between the other two agents or the fight that was about to start.

“Yes.” McGee seemed to find his voice again. “Torres got intel that Charles Lancaster had connections to all three female victims.”

Tim glared at his two team mates, their argument growing louder. “Bishop and Torres couldn’t find you. We got worried since neither of you were answering your cellphones.”

Jack grimaced, if only she’d remembered to slip the damn phone in Gibbs’ pocket they could have avoided all of this.

“Why are the three of you still here?” The edge in his voice seemed to snap the arguing pair out of it.

Ellie swallowed, knowing there was no way they were getting out of this unscathed. “We didn’t know if you wanted us to arrest him or see what he tries next.”

Jethro rubbed his forehead, his attention divided between Jack and his team. He couldn’t seem to think straight, at least not with the growing hard-on he was trying to hide from prying eyes. “Pick’m up.” He kept his focus on Jack as she tried regaining control of the situation. “Quietly, don’t need them talkin’.”

“Wait, you guys aren’t going to interrogate him?” The sly question could only come from one Nicholas Torres.

“Can’t risk the possibility of it not being him, we can’t afford sending our killer underground.” Jack seemed to find her voice. “Which is what we’re doing by discussing this where anyone can hear us.”

All three agents seem to nod, needing no further instructions they disappeared as quietly as they had arrived.

* * *

The doorknob was digging into his back at an odd angle, aggravating an old injury. He wouldn’t dare move, couldn’t risk the possibility of having her away from him for more than a few seconds. The team, the case, the interrogation was somewhere in the recess of his mind. Logic had pretty much left him the moment the door had closed and she’d slammed him against it.

He couldn’t help the quiet groan as she nipped at his lips. She was all tongue and teeth and if he didn’t calm himself down soon, he was going to have a problem.

Jack helped him take off the tuxedo jacket. She took a deep breath as he guided her backwards, dropping the jacket somewhere on the floor. She shivered at the sudden loss of heat, or it was the way his darkened eyes followed the delicate gold necklace again.

He touched a calloused fingertip to her throat. She closed her eyes as the rough skin traced down her throat, over her collarbone and between her breasts. The hitch in her breathing prompted him to follow the line he’d drawn with his lips. She slipped her fingers in his hair, holding him close as his cheek brushed against the swell of her breasts.

They undressed slowly, paying attention to each brush of newly revealed skin. The anxiety that usually accompanied the moment a man reached for the zipper of her dress was lack. He was already familiar with them, had most likely seen them the night before when he had helped her. She still couldn’t help but hold her breath as his fingers brushed over the welts.

She ran her fingers over his chest, smoothing the smattering of chest hair as he reached the end of the zipper. He had his fare share scars, far more than she did. She wondered which were from his time in the service. She could feel several ribs had been broken over the years, the oddly healed bones jutting out against her palms.

“Jack.” His voice was low in her ear, silently asking permission to undress her.

Cupping his cheek, she nodded, her lips seeking his as the dress finally dropped from her shoulders to pool around her feet.

Jack reached for the clasp on his trousers, undoing it with ease. Pushing his boxers down his hips, she brushed her hand over him, taking delight in the way he twitched at the contact.

He grabbed her hip a little roughly, pulling her flush against him. He reciprocated, ridding her of her panties. Wrapping his fingers around her thigh, he let her hook it around his hip. He slipped a hand between them, his fingers easily finding her slick clit.

“Fuck, Jack.” He growled into her mouth as she sucked on his tongue.

“That’s the idea.” The jibe seemed to draw a laugh from him.

A finger slipped inside her and she gasped into their kiss. Jack sank her teeth into his shoulder, rocking her hips against the palm of his hand. Two years had shot her nerves to hell and no amount of self satisfaction could really measure up to having him this close.

She reached for him, brushing the tip of his cock through her slick heat. He seemed to get the message, his thumb halting its rhythmic strokes. He eased her down on the cold bed sheets, body taught with pent up lust. He brushed a wisp of hair off her face, nudging his nose against her cheek.

“There’s no goin’ back after this.”

Trust him to be the voice of reason at a moment like this. Jack cupped his cheeks, running her thumbs over the soft skin. She wasn’t drunk, wasn’t looking for someone to make her feel good after a tough day. She knew he was trying to spare her from thinking she’d made a mistake after the lust was gone.

“Good.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Don’t want to go back.”

It was the only answer he needed.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, keeping him still as he entered her. The discomfort was brief, his thumb already seeking out her clit to ease the intrusion. It didn’t take long for her breathing to speed up as he moved against her, hips rocking in time with hers.

“Do that again.” She grit out as he repeated the motion. She forced her eyes open. He was strong and lean above her, muscles rippling with each thrust of his hips. He was surprisingly vocal in his own way, the quiet grunts causing her muscles to flutter. “So close.”

Jethro picked up the pace, trying to ignore the burn of his own muscles. He watched her fight against the urge to close her eyes. He moved his thumb against her faster, already feeling her legs tighten around his hips. He groaned as she finally came, her nails pricking deliciously into his back. He growled against her throat, hips snapping sporadically against hers, allowing himself his own release.

* * *

“How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t kill them?!”

Tim McGee leaned back in his chair, watching Charles Lancaster squirm. It had been surprisingly easy to arrest him, although the alcohol he’d consumed might have helped. He’d been listening to the drunk man slur continuously for the last three hours.

“A witness places you with three of the victims. Can you explain that?”

Lancaster sighed, headed lolling back on his shoulders. He shook his head, fingers sliding into his hair as he leaned forward seemingly defeated.

“Yes, okay. I knew them. But I didn’t kill them.” He blurted out, eyes screwing shut at the bright lights above him. “If I had known they’d all end up dead, I never would have talked to them.”

When the agent didn’t seem pleased with the answer, he dropped his head against the table. Straightening, he met the other man’s stare, deciding that the truth was the only option.

“I am bankrupt. I can’t even afford this suit.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I was going to blackmail them. That’s why I was with them, I’ve also been with other women. If I had known, I never would have interacted with them.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. Closing his file, he stood and made his way towards the door.

“It’s that Pearce isn’t. He called in some favors with his Navy buddies because he didn’t like the idea of me talking to his wife.”

“Mister Lancaster, I suggest you get a lawyer.”

Tim closed the door behind him. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, watching as his other team mates met him in the hallway followed by Ducky.

“Do we believe him?” Nick asked as he leaned against one of the orange walls.

Ellie shrugged, not sure she was coherent enough to pass any valid judgment.

“I’m afraid he is.” Ducky confessed. “Although he fits the profile, he isn’t our killer, seems like Agent Sloane was correct in her assumption.”

“You talked to her?” McGee asked as he eyed Ducky.

“Yes, she called earlier today. Saying that Gibbs suspected him, but she didn’t.”

The Senior Field Agent shook his head, wondering of she’d known from the start Gibbs was going to run a background check on him.

Ellie stretched, trying to get rid of the stiffness in her muscles. She bit her lip, clearly reading everyone else’s thoughts.

“If he isn’t our killer, then who is?”


	4. In Love & Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliches and cheesy lines aplenty my dear readers.

They had drifted in and out of sleep for hours, or at least a state of rest. Jack shifted on her back, legs tangled with his, warm bodies pressing together. She stifled a yawn, trying not to disturb Gibbs. He’d distracted her whenever the shadows became too much to bare, his body slick against hers and his lips whispering in her ear.

She watched him sleep, far from peaceful, his mouth drawn in a thin line and his brow furrowed. She’d seen him slumber once and then watched as he consciously forced himself to stay aware of everything around him. She wondered what haunted him in his sleep, which loss kept him up most nights.

“Starin'.” Gibbs’ voice was thick with sleep, sending her muscles tightening unexpectedly, eyes gunmetal blue as he blinked tiredly.

“Nothing else to do.” Jack countered, unable to hide the smile as he moved closer.

He draped an arm over her side, fingers finding her dimples of Venus. He inched closer, leaving just enough room for her to turn and press her small stature against him. He tilted his head towards her, relishing her softness as she snuggled deeper into their embrace.

She stretched, lips trailing softly over the underside of his jaw, nipping at the same spot she had for most of the night. This was exactly how their night had gone, touches and kisses that led to them being sweaty and momentarily sated enough to drift off.

This was different for him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt the urge to simply stay in bed. At least not since... He couldn’t dwell in the past; it wasn’t fair to Jack. There was no desire to run, no need to question whether sleeping together had been a mistake. She knew him, knew what demons lurked inside. He met her soft gaze, wondering what he had done to deserve the affection of a woman like Jacqueline Sloane.

Tightening the hold he had on her, she moaned right into his ear, sending his body thrumming. He growled when he heard her soft laugh against his cheek, unable to hide his own smile.

“Tease.” The accusation only made her roll her hips against his thigh.

“Cowboy, you have no idea.”

\/

He was damn sure he knew exactly what she’d implied. At least that’s what his raging hard-on suggested. He adjusted her leg draped over his shoulder, tightening his hold on her. The sharp pinch of her tugging on his hair only spurred him on.

Face buried between her thighs, she was supposed to be at his mercy. She’d turned the tables on him the moment he'd kissed the droplets off her skin after their shower. She was warm and wet, lithe body straining against the arm he used to pin her to the bed. He swiped his tongue over her again, feeling her abdomen quiver as she fought against the sensation.

Jack bit her lip, trying to stop the moan from escaping. Head propped up on a pillow, she forced her eyes open to watch him. The muscles along his back rippled and tensed as he tried holding her still. She couldn’t help the moan as he slid a second finger inside her.

“Right... there.” She mumbled, eyes slipping shut.

Jethro hummed against her, briefly looking up to watch her back arch, her heel digging into his back. He secretly enjoyed the way she commanded him by tugging his hair, or just confidently nudging him to go down on her. He felt her clench around his fingers. He tightened his grip on her hips, his tongue running firmly over her clit.

Gently easing her off her high, he felt her thigh drop from his shoulder, blindly reaching for him. Complying to her silent demand, he stretched out over her. Nudging his nose against hers, he kissed her. She was all soft curves and warm skin as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Hi.” Her voice was like velvet as she whispered against his lips.

She cupped his cheek, thumbs running across the soft skin tenderly. He was still bleary eyed despite their shower. She silently wondered when last he’d slept through the night. Hooking one leg over his, she felt his erection brush right against the apex of her thighs. Carding her fingers through his hair in apology for her death grip, she met him for another kiss.

He nipped at her bottom lip, quickly laving the spot with his tongue when she gasped. He slipped his tongue in her mouth and grinned as she moaned. He’d learned during the early morning hours that if he kissed her long and hard enough, he could rile her up real quick.

Jack pressed her palms against his chest, tuning on her stomach as he eased his weight off her.

She took a deep breath, relaxing into the soft bed sheets. There was a pause in his movements, a sense of reverence in his touch as he ran the palm of his hand over her shoulder blades and the scars. Fingers splayed out over the scars, she let him touch and study them, his hands gentle. She swallowed against the lump in her throat; her mouth dry as he eased himself down.

The full weight of him pressed briefly down on her hips. She closed her eyes, toes curling as he eased himself inside her. “Gibbs…” she sighed as he stretched out on top of her.

Their scars pressed together, he reached for her hands, lacing their fingers. She felt him whisper into her hair, word of devotion and confessions of what she did to him. She pressed back against him, encouraging him to take what he needed.

Taking a firm hold of her hip, he pulled her back against him. He pulled out halfway and thrust into her again, relishing the way she tightened around him unexpectedly. Dropping his head to her shoulder, he pressed nipping kisses there. She gasped and arched against him, allowing him more room.

“Jack!” He growled as his hips snapped against hers.

She welcomed his hunger. She bit her lip, feeling the familiar heat in the pit of her stomach as he moved against her. Closing her eyes, she reached back, nails digging into his thigh as he shuddered against her. The uncontrollable thrust of his hips as his orgasm washed over him was enough to send her over the edge.

\/

Jack watched with barely concealed amusement as Gibbs hunted through the various articles of clothing on the floor. He glared at her as he stomped around the room, still naked, as he looked for his phone. The cellphone rang for the umpteenth time as he finally found it in his tuxedo jacket.

“Gibbs.” He answered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

She leered at him from her spot on the bed. She could’ve sworn he’d blushed the moment he’d realized her eyes had strayed well passed his hips. The arrogance with which he approached the bed made it all too clear that he’d liked her wandering gaze.

He squinted at the small buttons on his cell, trying to find the right one. Hitting the faded little button, he tossed the phone onto the bed.

“… _The Director also interrogated Lancaster, he still insists he had nothing to do with the murders.”_

“If Leon interrogated him, and he’s still pleading innocent then he’s not our guy.” Jack answered as she watched her lover crawl back to her.

They both ignored the silence of the Senior Field Agent. Jack smiled as Gibbs sidled up next to her, eyes flicking over her naked form. He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, revealing her neck. Running his stubble over the sensitive skin, he grinned as she elbowed him to pay attention.

“_Uh… Hi, Jack, I didn’t know we were on loudspeaker.”_

“Did Kasie get the results back from the lab?” She could hear the other two in the background arguing about something.

Jethro kissed along the column of her throat, feeling her carotid artery pulse violently against his lips. He kissed across her clavicle, feeling her fingers find purchase in his hair again.

“_No, Director Vance has been pressuring them, said they’ll have the results ready by tomorrow afternoon.”_

“Keep us posted, McGee.” Gibbs muttered as he shifted lower, mouth heading south.

“_I’m gonna have Bishop and Torres go over everything again. I’ll have more agents posted in the ballroom tonight. The three of us will be in the surveillance van.”_

“Yeah, sure. Just watch our six.” Gibbs reached for the phone and snapped it shut.

Looping an arm around her waist, he pulled Jack towards him, laughing as she squealed in surprise. He saw right through her poor attempt to fight him off, rolling with her until she had him pinned beneath her. The heat of her inner thighs pressing right against his lower abdomen.

“You hungry, Gibbs?” She had his hands pinned against the headboard, watching him closely for any signs of distress.

He bucked his hips against her, eyes dark with want as she pressed down more firmly. “Jacqueline, you have no idea,.” He echoed right back at her.

* * *

They were both overly aware of each other and the several familiar faces hiding among the waiting staff. The ballroom was packed with new faces, from politicians to the highest military brass in the Pentagon. Jack straightened from where she leaned against the bar, playing right into the possessive tug he gave her fingers.

He met her soft contented sigh with a kiss as she leaned into him. There was just something about a man in uniform that she found undeniably attractive. Her mother had teased her for years about it, asking if it was her sense of duty or the men in uniform that had her joining her beloved Army. She was sure that if her mother were to ever meet Jethro Gibbs, the teasing would be worse.

He stood tall and proud, back ramrod straight and his head held high. There were other younger and higher ranking military personnel, but none of them stood a chance against her Marine. She studied his _‘chest candy’_, noting some of them were missing. She knew he’d given his Purple Heart to Kasie via Jimmy. It said something about him, cemented her very first encounter with him. He cared deeply for others and tried to hide it behind his no-bullshit persona.

She met his warm gaze, could see he knew what she was thinking about. He leaned closer, lips eagerly finding the soft skin just below her ear.

He felt her stiffen, muscles taught as she tried downplaying his sudden affection. He didn’t blame her it was unnerving having his team watch them, add ten more agents and it became unbearable. The idea that they needed any additional agents worried him more than he cared to admit.

“Relax.”

“Easy for you to say.” The gentle growl sent a shiver down his spine.

“We’ve done this before.”

“Not with so many people watching.”

He pressed his lips against her throat, hoping to sooth the sudden nervousness. He didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath as he nipped just behind her ear. Burying his nose in her hair, he surveyed the ballroom behind them.

McGee’s interrupting phone call had filled her with dread. He’d seen her questioning herself, pulling apart everything that seemed to go wrong with their mission. Tugging her firmly against him, kissing her soft and slow, he needed her to relax before their ever elusive killer suspect something.

“Want to dance?”

The question had her take a step back. “We really don’t have to.”

Jethro quirked an eyebrow. “Two left feet?” He teased, watching her eyes darken and dilate at the mere suggestion.

“If anyone can’t dance, it’s you, Cowboy.” She saw the sparkle in his eye, wondering if it was the bourbon or something else that had made him this playful.

He leaned closer, warm breath in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. She fought against the quiver of her abdomen as he whispered. “Three ex-wives, think I know how to dance.”

She was about to retort that perhaps his dancing skills had been the reason they were all short lived, when he took an unexpected step towards her.

“What’s your problem?!” The slurred voice snapped from behind them.

“You’re making a scene.” The desperate whisper seemed to have no effect.

Jack leaned around Gibbs, trying to see what was going on. She reached for his wrist, seeing his fingers already curled into a fist. The commotion had drawn a few onlookers, a number of men ready to drag the drunk away. She frowned at the young woman who stood embarrassed to one side, cheeks beet red and eyes brimming with tears.

It was the same young girl who’d been in their little group. Jack racked her memory, trying to recall her name. Sophia… she drew a blank trying to remember her surname. She’d have to ask Tim to help her locate the young girl after everything was over.

“Are you okay?” Gibbs asked quietly, trying to defuse the tension between the couple.

“What you askin’ her that for?” The twenty-something husband snarled again.

Jack grabbed the back of Gibbs’ jacket before he could pummel the younger man. “Why don’t you take a walk?” Jack questioned, noticing the security approaching.

Jethro reached for her hand, twining their fingers together as they watched security haul the young man out of the ballroom by the scruff of his neck.

The noise seemed to return to its normal level. Jack shook her head, watching Sophia rush off to appease everyone who had questions. Turning her attention back to Gibbs, she watched as he finished off his bourbon and raised his eyebrows.

“So, you wanna dance or not?”

* * *

The dance floor seemed overcrowded, and he wondered if this wasn’t the stupidest idea he’d had in a while. He kept his eyes on her, feeling her hand snake over his chest and resting on the nape of his neck. Fingers played with the coarse hair, her nails scratching along his scalp. Pressing his nose into her hair, he took in her scent and allowed his eyes to flutter shut just for a moment.

He felt momentarily disorientated. She smelled like peaches and the champagne she’d been sipping during dinner. He tightened his arm around her waist, feeling her go pliant and mold against him.

Forcing his eyes open, he met her gaze, eyes dark as she studied him with an amused smile. He was sure as hell going to take her dancing more often if she looked at him like that.

It had been nearly two decades since the last time he’d taken a woman dancing. Although he doubted his weddings actually counted. He felt his knees protest, yet another reminder that he’d been a lot younger since the last time he had danced.

“I’m impressed, Cowboy.” She murmured against his lips, feeling him smile into the kiss.

_Smug bastard._

She leaned her head against his shoulder. The hand on her back was warm and possessive, fingers splayed reverently across the thin material, her hand clasped tightly in his. For a moment she could forget that they were bating a psychopath. Could push the thought of the backlash she’d get from Leon to the back of her mind. It was just them in a room full of people who couldn’t really care less who they were.

The music faded, forcing them to separate. Jack tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, not missing half of the undercover agents giving them curious looks. She felt her cheeks burn at the thought of what the office gossip would be. Lacing her fingers with his she finally dared to look at him.

“Jethro?” Jack stepped closer. He was pale, his skin clammy to the touch as she pressed the back of her hand against his cheek. It wasn’t all that hot in the room and they’d hardly gone around the dance floor.

“Jethro? Do you feel okay?” The lack of response was enough cause for concern.

“Fine.” He growled. Reaching for the top button on his jacket, he pried it open. He fought against the tightness in his throat, swallowing heavily.

“I’ll call McGee.”

Jethro screwed his eyes shut, trying to stop his vision from swimming. Grabbing Jack’s arm he stopped her. “Don’t need more attention.”

She knew what he meant, several heads had turned the moment he’d swayed against her. Looping her arm through his, he gave her hand a desperate squeeze.

“Damn seafood.” Jethro muttered as they made their way through the crowded room.

“Told you this afternoon to stay away.” Jack returned as they managed to break through and stumble into the lobby, literally.

Jethro wiped the sweat from his brow. He could remember her commenting during lunch that something smelled off, but he’d chalked it up to her being picky. He felt his throat tightening, stomach churning dangerously.

“Jack...” He sounded winded as she corralled him into the elevator.

“I know.” She soothed, running her fingers through his hair, trying to keep him calm. “Just breathe, okay?”

His breathing was shallow, his hair damp with sweat as they rode the elevator in silence. The ding was louder than it should be as the doors slid open to reveal the empty floor.

The trek between the room and the elevator seemed farther than usual. He had his arm around her shoulders, trying to stop the room from spinning. She swore under her breath as she struggled with the key card. The door finally budged as she swung it open helping Gibbs into the room.

He seemed dazed, blue eyes unfocused as she led him to the bed. Sitting him down on the edge, she quickly unbuttoned his jacket. “You have to help me here, Marine.”

Jack felt the panic wrap its fingers around her spine, sending her heart thudding. His breathing was shallow his eyes darting around in silent panic as he gulped for air. Forcing his jacket off and unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as possible, she had him lie down.

“I don’t think it was the seafood.” She said more to herself than to him. Pressing her fingers against his pulse, she felt it race against the tips of her fingers. He groaned, trying to reach for her as he curled in on himself.

“Gibbs, just stay with me.” The calmness in her voice surprised even her as she smoothed her fingers through his hair. Grabbing his jacket she rifled through the pockets looking for her phone. She heard him fighting for breath as his body went limp.

Finding McGee’s number she gave a quiet cry of relief.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Jack froze as she felt the cold barrel of the pistol press against her temple.

* * *

** _To Be Continued..._ **


	5. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was done a while ago, but I wasn't satisfied with it. After a rewrite and some serious self-criticism, I give you this.

Tim McGee reclined in his chair, secretly enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasted. Torres and Bishop had been at each other’s throats since they’d arrived. He let it slide for a few minutes trying to gauge when he had to step in. The bickering had reminded him of Kate and Tony, and he’d been just a little nostalgic. It wasn’t until their argument turned petulant that he’d stepped in.

He scanned the monitors, trying to find his boss on one of the screens. The camera that pointed directly at the room had conveniently malfunctioned during the night, leaving them blind. He watched Ellie out the corner of his eye as she scanned her case notes. Torres was on the other side doing the same. He sighed a little too heavily and tried locating his boss again.

“Agent Harris, what’s you visual on agents Gibbs and Sloane?”

“_They left a few minutes ago, sir. It appears that agent Gibbs is drunk.”_

Ellie snapped her gaze away from her case notes. She could tell McGee’s frown was just a little too concerned. Nick snorted, shaking his head as he casually flipped through his folder. She narrowed her eyes at him until he finally looked up.

“Oh, come on you guys.” He slid his folder away from him, propping his feet up. “Clearly, Gibbs had one too many and now he’s paying for it.”

Tim scratched at his beard, a nervous tick he had yet to stop. Shaking his head, he met Torres with a leveled look. “He won’t, at least not on the job.”

He was confident in his assumption. He’d only ever seen his boss drunk once, following a case involving an 8-year-old girl and her mother being killed. He felt Ellie shift in her chair anxiously. Giving her a reassuring glance, she seemed to relax.

“Everyone has a limit, even Gibbs.” Nick retorted, the earlier confidence slipping.

Ellie pulled out her phone, giving each of her team mates a stern look when they tried stopping her. Gibbs was first on her list, dialing the number, she waited.

“He’s not picking up.” She announced quietly as she listened to the phone’s continuous ringing. She saw the panic in McGee’s eyes well before he could try and hide it.

“You know, this morning I struggled to get a hold of him too. Maybe he turned his ringtone off by accident.” Tim tried to sound reassuring, but it was weak even to his own ears. He immediately noticed Ellie’s need to do something. “Why don’t you try Jack. I’m sure she’d pick up.”

Bishop’s eyes widened, the panic momentarily receding. “Yeah, of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

* * *

Jack grit her teeth, the cold steel of the pistol biting into her skin, her thumb still hovering over McGee’s name. She counted Gibbs’ shallow gasps for air, watched as he tried fighting the involuntary spams running through his muscles. She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“What did you do to him?” Turning her head, she felt the steel dig just a little deeper into her temple.

“Gave him a little something for the pain.” Sophia growled right in her ear.

Jethro moaned, body convulsing as he tugged at his clothing. He seemed unaware of what was going on, his eyes darting around wildly. He reached for Jack the moment he seemed to recognize her. She reached for him, fingers twining with his as he fought against another rush of convulsions. He moaned, visibly gasping for breath.

The crack of metal hitting bone was deafening.

Sophia wiped the butt of the pistol against the discarded jacket, eyes void of emotion. She seemed to balance the weapon in the palm of her hand, watching Jack scramble to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay.” Jack whispered, he pressed into her hand as she tried stopping some of the bleeding. The blow hadn’t been hard enough to knock him out, only piercing the soft skin of his temple. Leaning down she pressed a kiss to his hair, hoping to calm him down. “You have to be quiet.”

In the last few minutes, she’d noticed that any noise seemed to frazzle their captor. It wouldn’t take much to overpower her, which she lacked in strength she made up for by taking out her strongest opponent. Jack felt her own concealed weapon press into her thigh as she tried adjusting Gibbs. She knew his knife was hidden in his trouser pocket, but Sophia was watching each move closely. She’d have to distract her long enough to play her cards just right.

“Why are you doing this?” Jack whispered, making sure to inject enough fear to lull her into a false sense of control.

She tilted her jaw up slightly as Sophia crouched in on her, gun pressed right under her chin. Swallowing heavily she had to fight the memories, ignore the taste of desert sand in her mouth. She could still save both of them if she kept her cool.

The sudden ring of a phone had her flinch involuntary and she could see the familiar glean of a killer as Sophia grinned at her reaction. Jack stood her ground, knowing the slip might have helped her situation.

Reaching for the phone, Sophia read the name. “Ellie” She swiped her finger across the screen, meeting her victim’s dark gaze. “Guess she’s gonna have to leave a message.”

Jack clenched her jaw as she watched her phone meet its untimely end against the wall.

* * *

Ellie pursed her lips, listening to the endless ringing. She tapped her pencil against the makeshift desk that housed their equipment. She’d noticed McGee scan the monitors meticulously, hoping to find their missing team members. Nick had his hand propped up under his chin, watching the screens with Tim.

“… _leave your number, and I’ll get back to you.”_

“She’s not picking up either.” Bishop announced, dropping her phone on the desk a little too violently. “Can’t we have Harris go look for them, maybe check their room?”

Tim ground his teeth together. “Ellie, you know we can’t. If we blow this, we might never catch this guy.”

“McGee, seriously? Neither of them is answering, and the last visual was Gibbs looking drunk. Nothing about this looks suspicious to you?”

Tim glared at the younger agent, giving her a firm look. He knew she was panicked and that out of the three of them she was usually calm and collected. The prospect of having Gibbs and Jack in a dangerous position seemed to get to her a lot more than it should. She was the youngest on their team, had built close relationships with both people.

“Maybe they’re getting it on, you know. They don’t want to talk to us.” Nick butted in from his seat, the humor in his statement lacking. He’d known something was wrong the moment Gibbs hadn’t picked up his phone, but they couldn’t all plummet into blind panic. He brushed off the dark look Ellie shot him.

There was a retort on the blonde’s lips, but she was cut off by one of the computer screens blinking.

Tim pulled the keyboard towards him.

The screen showed static for a few seconds, before revealing the inside of the NCIS forensic lab. It was well passed 6 o’clock, meaning Kasie should’ve left hours ago. She seemed tired, lab coat thrown over a chair and her chin propped up on her knuckles she stared blankly at them.

“Hey, Kase.” McGee spoke watching as she straightened, pushing her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. She narrowed her eyes at them, seemingly studying each of them with a critical eye.

“_Okay, what are you three hiding this time?”_

“Nothing.” The resounding chores only had her raising her eyebrows at them.

“_You know, for a bunch of Federal Agents; you guys are really bad liars.”_

Tim rolled his eyes, stopping whatever argument Torres was about to start with a simple look. Turning his attention back to the screen, he met the scientist’s suspicious stare. “Kasie, there a reason you called?”

“_I just got the results back from the lab, thanks to Director Vance. The blood work tested positive for GHB.”_

“GHB? What’s that?” Nick closed his folder and leaned forward in his chair. The air had shifted. The threat of Gibbs and Sloane potentially gone missing electrified the pervading tension.

“_Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, not exactly something you can buy over the counter. It’s used for medical treatments and as a recreational drug. It’s also a date rape drug and once it’s mixed with alcohol it can have some serious side effects.”_

Ellie reached for her phone, slipping it back in her pocket and resting her hand on her Sig. “What are the side effects, Kasie?”

“_In low doses it can cause nausea or vomiting. At higher doses it can cause loss of consciousness, seizures and sometimes difficulty breathing. Like most drugs, an overdose can be fatal. It has no actual taste, so the victim doesn’t know they’ve been drugged.”_

“He wasn’t drunk he was drugged.” Ellie whispered to herself. Defying McGee’s stern orders at the beginning of their mission to not interfere, she was out of her chair.

Nick was on his feet, weapon drawn as he charged after Bishop.

“_Whoa, what’s going on?”_ Kasie stared at a dumbfound McGee. The Senior Field Agent snapped his attention back to the screen.

“Gonna have to get back to you!” Tim shouted over his shoulder as he swung himself out the backdoor of the van.

* * *

She forced her fingers to stop shaking, knowing she couldn’t give Sophia the sadistic pleasure she was looking for. Gibbs had lost all consciousness, his body limp and his pulse weak. Jack bit her lip. She’d been forced to undress him leaving him in his t-shirt and boxers, the barrel of the gun never straying far from her head.

“I said tie him up.” Sophia snapped from behind her, the gun connecting with her skull.

Jack complied, wrapping the rope around Gibbs’ wrists. “Why us? What did we ever do?”

The tactic seemed to work, Sophia had relaxed fractionally when she’d realized there was no apparent threat once Gibbs was quiet. It had been twenty minutes since they left the ballroom, she hoped the team had realized by now something was wrong.

“Oh don’t think you’re going to analyze me, Doctor Pearce.” Sophia snapped again, this time her anger was more visible as she grabbed a handful of hair, yanking Jack’s head to make her look at her. “Why should he get what I’ve always wanted?”

The missing pieces of the puzzle gradually fell in place. “What is it that I have, Sophia? What do you want?”

“Shut up!”

Jack balled her fists as the back of her captor’s hand landed violently across her mouth. The taste of copper flooded her mouth as her teeth cut into her lips. The pain was brief, nine months of torture had disciplined her how to dull most of her senses. She ran her tongue across her bloodied teeth.

“She didn’t love you, did she?” Jack stood slowly. “That’s why you kill the wife first, so the husband can watch you take something from them that they took from you.”

She could see the panic flash across Sophia’s face, eyes growing hard as stone as she grappled to stay in control of the situation. “Tell me, Sophia. The first woman you loved, did she leave you for a Marine? The rejection must have cut deep.”

Jack held her breath, watching the realization dawn on her face. She saw the falter in her posture, shoulders slumped as she relived the heartbreak. It was the moment the outstretched arm holding the gun dropped a fraction, the barrel’s aim moving from her skull to her shoulder. She made her decision.

She heard her heart thumping in her ears, Gibbs’ panicked gasp for air igniting the fire inside. Wrapping her fingers around the other woman’s wrist, she forced her arm in the air. Two consecutive shots rang out, throwing her off balance as her ears started ringing.

She found her footing quickly, despite the murderous heels. Years of military training kicked in. Using her strength to her advantage, Jack balled her fist, sending it flying through the air.

Knuckles crashed against cartilage.

The door was flung open, revealing all three members of team Gibbs along with all the other agents.

She ignored the throb in her knuckles, pushed the familiar taste of pain in her mouth to the back of her mind. She barely heard the team rush in, their movements almost lethargic as she watched them arrest their killer. She felt detached for a moment. She'd berate herself later for not making the connection earlier. She’d been right with her assessment, but their suspect had been as conniving as she had expected.

The ringing in her ears slowly subsided, and reality came crashing down around her. Disoriented, she pushed passed the sudden crowd of Federal Agents, rage flooding through her veins.

“An ambulance is on its way.” Nick stepped in front of her, identifying the anger as nothing other than fear.

Ellie was by her side in an instant, eyes wide and slightly panicked as she watched Gibbs fight yet another convulsion.

“He’s been drugged. The blood results of the previous victim came back positive for GHB.” Ellie babbled, more to soothe them both.

Jack nodded blindly, sinking down next to Gibbs. The feel of his calloused palms against the pads of her fingers helped her focus as she untied the sloppy knot on the rope. Fighting the anxiety welling in her chest, she pressed the tips of her fingers into the tender spot on his wrist. The light stutter of his pulse was enough to reassure her, for the moment.

Ellie stared at her, face pale and eyes red rimmed from a lack of sleep. She could see the tears welling in the corner of her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. It struck her just how young Bishop was, hoped to God that the childlike innocence would never leave her pretty face.

Ellie curled her fingers into the sleeve of Gibbs' undershirt, knuckles alabaster white as she held on to whatever she could.

“He'll be okay.” It surprised both women when it was Bishop who whispered the words.

Jack reached for her free hand, trying to hold on the young woman’s promise.

* * *

The smell of antiseptic seemed like a vague memory. It had never been the smell of disinfectant that got her, it was the hushed silence that always lurked around her. Hospital staff had fought to keep her out of his room, throwing around _family _as their only excuse.

One phone call to Ducky resulted in her standing at the foot of the hospital bed. The air was cold around her and she instinctively reached for Gibbs. The familiar heat that surrounded him was gone, leaving his skin freezing. Fighting the tightness in her throat, she blinked the burning tears away.

A rush of air pulled her out of her thoughts.

“I didn’t realize he had visitors.”

The words reverberated through her mind. Jack straightened, running her fingers through her messy blonde hair. Under different circumstance she might’ve been amused at the words, knowing an icy blue glare would probably stop the doctor right in his tracks.

Cyril Taft watched the flicker of emotion run across the blonde woman’s face. No doubt that she had an impeccable poker face as she stared at him with dark brown eyes. He flipped through the chart, double checking the last vitals that were taken. It surprised him that none of his team was present, their previous encounters all involved them pervading the hall outside the room. All of them eager to know if their boss would be able to pull through.

“Is he going to be okay?” She asked in a whisper.

Taft peered over the frames of his glasses, eyes thin and tired as he considered her for a moment. Scribbling the last of his notes in the chart before snapping it shut, he cast his patient a firm glare despite his condition.

“Agent Sloane, right?” He asked, noting that her gaze never left Gibbs. He pieced the information together for himself. Grace Confalone had mentioned a certain Agent Sloane who had managed to get under the skin of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

“He’s fine, despite the blow to the head. I suspect that the wound should be healing within the next few days. The attending doctor was only concerned due to previous complications.” He could see the information was new to her, but she would have to ask the man himself. “His heart is fine, despite the overdose. He’s got a history with the staff so they don’t want to keep him longer than what’s necessary.”

Jack raised a brow; she’d heard from Tim and Ellie alike that Gibbs tended to be a pain in the ass when he found himself in the hospital. Personal trauma had taught her it was more the feeling of helplessness and frustration that was so agitating.

Taft pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, sensing the woman’s need to be alone. “Once he wakes up and the attending doctor is satisfied, they’ll release him.” He cast her one last glance before leaving the room.

Wringing her hands together, she nervously sought out her thumb nail. She bit into the skin lightly, trying to hide the tears. She’d lost men before, watched them die right in front of her. All she could see was young Ellie Bishop’s face, bravely fighting against the fear of losing Gibbs. It created more turmoil than she could stand.

Had she listened to her damn common sense they wouldn’t have been here in the first place? As exhilarating as it was to finally give in to the desire to be with him. It came with a price, and she wondered when the time would come that she couldn’t pay it anymore.

* * *

Washington daybreak was bright and early. Eleanor Bishop paced the hallway up and down, her Converse sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floors. She’d been in the waiting room before dawn, watching the night life of the hospital as the night staff bustled around.

It had been less than 24 hours since they had made the arrest. The media had been running wild with the story, half of DC’s rich and famous had been knocking on NCIS’ door. They had wrapped up the case as quickly as possible, all of them equally exhausted and equally anxious to visit Gibbs. The Director had ordered them to get some rest while he handled their suspect.

She watched the sunlight stream in through the windows, seemingly bringing life along with it. She watched nurses pass by, some recognizing her and others simply going about their work. The walls echoed with voices as people started arriving for visiting hours.

The sound of someone approaching from around the corner had her looking up.

The familiar face looked slightly annoyed, brow pinched in a frown as he scrawled in his chart. Pushing herself off the wall, she moseyed towards him. “Doctor Taft?”

The frown faded instantly, his thin face lighting up with a smile as he recognized her. “Ah, Agent Bishop.” He gave her a knowing smile, they had met each other like this many a morning when Gibbs had been shot. “I was surprised to see a different blonde in his room.”

“That’s Agent Sloane. They’re really _close_ friends.” Ellie nodded, twisting her hands in anticipation to go visit her team leader.

“He’s doing fine, his heart held up pretty well despite the nearly lethal overdose. He really is one tough son-” He caught himself. Offering the young agent a smile he nodded towards the room she’d been keeping watch over. “Why don’t you go say hello? He’s about to be discharged.”

She didn’t know what to expect when she walked into his room.The last time she’d walked down these halls the possibility of losing her boss had been walking with her. The sunlight filtering through the windows warmed her skin, bringing back the sunny disposition she always opted for when she knew Gibbs might be in a particular mood.

What she didn’t expect was him sitting on his hospital bed alone, the familiar red USMC hoodie looking larger than it should. Lightly tapping her knuckles on the door, she smiled when his head snapped up. The tired smirk he offered her was a welcoming change opposed to the glare he gave everyone when they found themselves here.

“Can I come in?” She asked cautiously, brown eyes searching the room curiously.

Gibbs nodded, pushing off from the hospital bed. It didn’t surprise him when the warmth that was Ellie Bishop crashed into his chest. He hid the groan in her hair as she tightened her arms around his chest. He felt his muscles and joints protest under the added stress, but he ignored it. For a moment he cradled her close to his chest, reminding himself that it could have been her in this room.

“Thought Vance gave you the day off?” He groused as she stepped away, hoping to hide the sudden vulnerability.

The tone didn’t seem to fool her, and she simply shrugged his mood off. “Yeah, it’s why I’m here. The other two should be here at any moment.” She plopped herself in the chair that stood in the corner, feet curled up and her chin propped on her knee.

“Bishop.” Gibbs sighed, taking a seat on the bed again.

Ellie had a tendency to coddle, no matter who it was. He watched her keep herself busy on her phone, hair loose around her shoulders as she tapped away. In a split second he forgot how old she was, could see her as the geeky shy teen she used to be.

The second knock on the door was harsher this time and didn’t wait for permission to enter.

McGee came into view first followed closely by a bleary eyed Torres.

“Hey, Boss, how you feelin’?” Tim would always be the one to ask, no matter how many times he’d be stared down. He didn’t expect an answer, could see his younger team mates give him a sympathetic look.

“Okay.” Gibbs grumbled.

Tim nodded slowly, slightly taken aback by the fact that he got an answer. After Paraguay he could understand why his boss hated the sympathetic looks. He appreciated the answer for what it was. He was about to say something when his phone started ringing, excusing himself he stepped out of the room.

“So, Gibbs...” Nick broke the sudden silence, giving Ellie a look. “You and Jack?”

“What about us, agent Torres?”

Nick stared at Ellie with wide eyes. “What? Nothing.” He hated the fact that the pitch of his voice seemed to go higher. He turned to look at Jack, trying to charm himself out of the situation.

Gibbs bit back the smirk that threatened to slip. He’d give anything to see what Lieutenant Sloane looked like in her uniform reprimanding a subordinate. He saw the amusement in her eyes as Nick quickly shuffled his way across the room to a safe distance next to Bishop.

Tim wandered back in the room, a frown plastered firmly across his face.

“We get a case?” Bishop asked, slipping her phone back in her jacket pocket.

Tim shook his head. “Uh, no. That was Agent Wendy. She confirmed my ‘refresher training’.”

“Refresher for what?” Nick looked at Bishop questioningly, silently hoping he wasn’t next in line for training.

Tim scratched the back of his neck, trying to figure out how he had landed himself in this situation. “She just said I have to be there for the ‘sketch and measurement’ section of the course.” He looked at Gibbs who hardly seemed phased by the news. “Boss, you know anything about this?”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “It’s an hour, McGee, just go.”

It was the slight twitch in his eyebrow and the barely perceptible up turn of his lips that gave him away. Jack smiled to herself, knowing that Gibbs was doling out punishment for a reason. She was surprised when those icy blues were suddenly focused on her.

“We good to go?” The irritation in his voice was hard to miss.

The resounding chorus of ‘goodbye’ as his team ran for safety made her lift an eyebrow at him. “Seems like they were anticipating a ‘no’.”

Gibbs lifted his shoulders, he wasn’t going to admit he raised the roof of this particular hospital a few times. Grabbing his go-bag, he slung the strap over his shoulder, he double checked that he had all his things before invading her personal space.

Jack took a deep breath. He smelled like aftershave and soap, his hair still damp from the shower he’d opted for before his official discharge. It didn’t feel like the right moment to address any of the things that happened. Licking her lips, she watched him do the same. “You’re officially a free man.”

* * *

The old-fashioned percolator was whirring softly behind her, the smell of Jamaican blend filling the house. She’d left him to brood for a little while. Having spent a few nights here she knew pretty much where he kept the essential ingredients to start a pot of coffee. A parting gift.

Twisting the wedding band on her finger, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. It wasn’t the place or the time to ponder what it meant she still had the damn thing on. Wriggling the thin band off her finger, she placed it on the kitchen counter.

The percolator beeped behind her. Opening the cabinet door, she found two chipped mugs suitable enough. She was about to close the cabinet when the engraving on the door caught her attention.

_KG_ was scratched into the paint and wood. She smiled to herself. It didn’t take her too long to figure out who had been the artist. Running her fingers over the faded initials, she closed the door quietly. Hand hovering over one of the cups she stared at the second, wondering if he actually wanted her hanging around his home. Putting the carafe back in its place, she left the mugs on the counter.

They would probably never talk about their illicit affair again. _Really, Jack?_

Rolling her eyes at herself, she snatched the keys to her car. Momentarily she thought of shouting a goodbye down the stairs. Deciding against it, she hooked her finger through the key ring and carefully picked her way across the wooden floorboards. She was halfway to the door, her escape in reach when his voice stopped her.

“Where ya goin’?”

He was leaning against the door frame, arm braced above his head as he studied her. The red hoodie was covered in a thin dusting of sawdust. He’d seen the cups on the counter, the wedding band now resting in his closed fist. He saw the conflicted look on her face. He’d never meant for her to feel uncomfortable when they’d started this.

“Was checkin’ for termites. They usually move in this time of year.” He offered as explanation for his quick dash to the basement. “Don’t wanna bunk with Fornell again.” He shrugged and pushed away from the door frame. “His couch is lumpy.”

He didn’t bother hiding his delight when she laughed. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and the blush across her cheeks sent heat right through him. _God, she was irresistible when she laughed._

Jack placed her keys on the nearest flat surface. “And do you?”

“Not sure yet. Why? You have a couch I can bunk on if I do?” He welcomed her warmth when she stepped right up to him. He nudged his nose against hers lightly, meeting her lips with a kiss. He didn’t resist her when she deepened it, instead he pulled her closer.

Jack pulled back, slightly out of breath. “Oh, Cowboy. I’ve got a whole queen sized bed if you need it.”

It was his turn to laugh, his breath hot against her skin as he pressed his forehead against her. Reaching for her right hand, he slipped the wedding band on her ring finger. It was a silent promise and an attempt not to scare her off, or give himself a heart attack.

“I wanna do this right, Jack.” He could feel her nod, knew she understood what the simple gold band represented for them. “Dinner?”

She smiled up at him, the one that made his knees weak and his heart thump wildly in his chest. “Only if you promise to take me dancing too.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, gauging just how serious she was. “Your livin’ room fine?”

Intimate and private, and just so him. Brushing her lips over his again she couldn’t help but grin.

“It’ll do.”

* * *

_ **The End** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who stuck around, I thank you very much. Yes, I am aware that Nick was drugged and that he would know what GHB is, but working for a pathology lab the last three years I realized that people aren't as clued up as they should be.


End file.
